The Plane Shift
by Storm Notorious
Summary: After an experimental potion mishap, level 1 sorcerer Aramil gets transported to Magical Britain, in the year 1993. Rated T for occasional violence, cursing, and using every loophole in existence.
1. Chapter 1

_The army had just marched over the hill when they saw it. The army of undead that had swept across the land, leaving nothing but destruction and death in its wake. The horde of skeletal and zombie foot soldiers was over a mile wide. Shadows and wraiths hovered through the air in a great mass. And above them, on a reanimated black great wyrm was the necromancer responsible for all of this. The fearsome…_

"Aramil!"

Aramil's daydream promptly evaporated, causing him to fall out of his chair. His master was towering over him. Considering he was on the floor, even a Halfling could tower over him. "Get up! You're supposed to be packing up the potions, not taking a nap!" Aramil scrambled to his feet. "Sorry sir…I-" His master waved a dismissive hand.

"Whatever. Just be careful with the new batch of potions. They have unknown magical effects." Aramil trudged back up the stairs. He hated being apprenticed to him. Sure, there were some good parts (never having to be hungry), but for the most part, it was terrible.

Aramil was a sorcerer, while his master was a wizard. From what he explained (all in a condescending tone), sorcerers were born with magic hovering at their fingertips, while wizards had to work for it. Thus, wizards were superior. _So, wizards are superior because they have no inborn magic whatsoever, while sorcerers do? _He had asked that question when he first arrived, and was deprived of food for a day.

He reached the laboratory and swore. His master never labelled stuff. He decided to take the crate nearest and blame it on his master if it was false. His master called from outside. "Hurry up boy, haven't got all day!" Aramil hurried his pace. A nearby window opened, and a bat like creature crashed into him.

Aramil fell down the steps, to the second landing. He was fortunate enough (16 Dexterity, peasants!) to have only a few minor cuts. The crate of potions however, was a goner. The imp slave he crashed into landed and snickered. "Looks like someone's getting fired." Aramil looked at it.

"You do remember that even fledgling sorcerers are capable of just about anything, right?"

"Aw, cru-"

He threw a glass shard at him.

While Krev the imp was wheezing heavily, Aramil considered his options.

Jump out the window and hope whatever Deadly Master controlled his actions decided to alter reality and save him. Rejected, because 1st level sorcerers tend to be expendable, even if they/he did have a character sheet.

Blame everything on the imp. Rejected, his master would look for a way to blame it on him. The idiot saw Krev as a pet.

Hope whatever spell in the potion that was now splattered on his robes didn't kill him immediately. Rejected, because- wait, what _was_ in the potion?

Aramil looked down at the largest patch. _"Read Magic." _An emotionless vaguely female rang in his head. _"This spell has been identified as: Plane shift." _Krev started cackling hysterically, while Aramil ran downstairs, hoping his 30 ft per-round movement was enough. Just as he reached the doorway, it took effect.

_I should've snuffed out the stupid imp when I had the chance._

* * *

**_Thanks for reading. Please read & review, and for those D&D fans, munchkining tips are always welcome._  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Aramil woke up in a grassy field. The sun was right above him, in a crystal-blue sky. The grass was tickling his face. He felt like he was forgetting something…

Oh right. The _Plane Shift._

Aramil yawned and stood up. Nothing around him as far as the eye could see. "Hmm...inventory check." Good thing he had his Handy Haversack. After scrimmaging around, he had: 3 flasks of acid, one flask of alchemist's fire, one smokestick, and a tindertwig. "Yay." _Irritation, curiosity. _"Oh, so now you decide to wake up?" Orion, Aramil's weasel familiar, scurried out of the bag and onto his shoulder. A sense of curiosity emanated from him. "Long story short, we got plane-shifted. Doesn't look like anything I'm familiar with so…time to change my character sheet!"

A glowing sheet of paper appeared in his hands. The trick was to do it when no one was looking (even NPC's counted), and early in the campaign, before the DM knew his spell list. He took out a quill and ink well and scribbled out _Summon Monster I_. In its place, he put in _Mount. _As an afterthought, he crossed out Spell Focus and replaced it with Toughness.

"Ah, Munchkining. Is there anything it _can't_ do?" His character sheet vanished into thin air. _"Mount."_

A light horse appeared, with a saddle and bridle and everything in place. "Right then," He got a foot in the stirrup and swung the other one over the horse. "No points in Ride, but how hard can it be to hold onto a horse?"

* * *

As it turns out, the answer was that without any ranks in Ride, it was very hard. Still, he managed to hold on. A thought occurred to him.

"Orion, how long has it been since I cast the spell? An hour? Hmm...Hate to burn through my spell slots like this, but I don't have a choice. _Read Magic." _The spell informed him it had about...3 minutes. He swung off the horse (and told it to run off) and surveyed the area. He still wasn't anywhere near civilization. "The sun's about to set Orion, and you know what that means." _Questioning?_ "Higher chance of undead-related random encounters, and I don't have turn or rebuke undead." He didn't have a choice, so he continued at a quick walk. _By the Eternal Lover, it sets quick around here. The fireflies are coming out quickly. _

"Wait a minute...Orion, those are lights!" He scrambled forward with renewed vigor, climbing up the slope. He got to the top and surveyed the full village below. He supposed it was fairly large by their standards, but Aramil, who had read about kingdoms spanning over hundreds of demiplanes, saw drawings of Sigil, the city of doors, found it...unimpressive.

"Now how do I get down...hmm..._Mount." _A slightly plump pony appeared, twisting its head to look back at Aramil with big round eyes, and nickered softly, expecting to be his faithful servant.

Aramil pushed it off the cliff. It fell down with a horrible scream, falling down several rocks. Remarkably, it managed to remain at exactly 0 hit-points. "Well, here goes nothing." He jumped, landing on it with no damage. Well, to him. The fall damage it absorbed sent it into the negatives, causing it to vanish. "Well, that's the last first level spell." He hopped off the landing to the next one. As it was 9 feet, he was fine. "Hopefully we don't run into any random encounters now, Orion...Gotcha."

He dropped down to the base of the mountain, crouching to hide him from anyone still up and about. There was a old, rickety-looking, boarded-up house on a hill that practically screamed 'Adventurers Welcome!'. He mentally marked it down as a place to get experience.

A creaking door drew his attention. An old man stepped out of a dingy building, with the sounds of what was probably a brawl fight. He maneuvered through a herd of goats, opening a shed. The man was most likely a bartender, which were the second best kind of people to get information from, aside from old bearded wizards, that gave you more questions then you asked and eyes that made you feel like they had the spell _Detect Thoughts _at will.

He approached the bartender, who was currently feeding the goats, and casted _Silent Image. _He was now a tall cloaked figure with glowing red eyes, and in his corpse-like hand clutched a staff covered in mysterious runes.

"_Now why would a bartender tend to goats?" _He had cast _Ghost Sound_ to make it a deep, honeyed voice, with a hint of amusement.

The bartender glanced up, and froze. Aramil had to give it to him, he recovered remarkably quickly. The goats started to get agitated. "Uhhh...Something I can help you with..?"

He casted _Ghost Sound _again. _"I am...my name is unpronounceable in your language. I require a room for the night." _

The man took a step back. "No rooms here, but there's plenty of 'em at the Three Broomsticks, a short walk, can't miss it."

Aramil made it bow slightly, careful to bow with it. He turned it around to leave and set off for the bigger building. He made sure it looked like shrouds of darkness were clinging to the figure as it left.

"Stop judging me, Orion."

The weasel hissed disapprovingly.

"It's better if people here don't know who I am until I know more about this place. Ah, here we are. Now be quiet."

He arrived at the Inn. It was brightly lit, with sounds of music and laughing inside. "Okay, here we go."

Balor -he found that a fitting name for his persona- opened the door with a withered hand (carefully covering Aramil's hand) and stepped inside. The general coziness persisted for a split second, until someone glanced over. In the space of a split second, all talking had ceased, for everyone was staring at the imposing figure, wondering what it was doing in a place like the Three Broomsticks.

Balor stood in the door for a moment, looking at the audience assembled. He seemingly glided forward on silent steps, making his way to the bar. Everyone in its path scurried out of the way, except for a burly man who had slightly too much to drink.

"Oi, what the hell 're you?"

Balor bent down to his level, and looked at him with his flickering flames that served as eyes. He slowly extended an arm towards his forehead. When he was an inch away from him, he miraculously gained his common sense and almost dived out of the way. He approached the bartender, who was an attractive blond woman frozen in the middle of washing a glass.

He leaned over the bar slightly. _"One room for the night, and I shall be paying in the morning, madam."_

Thankfully, she didn't argue. She dropped a silver key. "F-first room on the left, up the stairs."

Balor bowed, and headed for the stairs, taking them slowly. As he climbed out of sight, the chattering resumed in furious whispers. He turned left and unlocked his door. He locked it behind him and immediately dismissed Baalor. He was sweating slightly.

"_That_...was the most risky thing I've ever done." Orion climbed out of his pocket and onto the bed-stand, where he curled up right away.

"Seriously? You're mad at me for using one of my class skills? I didn't want to run into any random encounters." Orion was still silent. "Fine then. See you in the morning."

He climbed in the bed and extinguished the candle burning in midair. He sat on his bed and started trancing.

* * *

**And the second chapter is up. For all those who aren't familiar with D&D, a Balor is a 12 foot tall, 4000 pound demon, that is constantly wreathed in flames. Keep those reviews coming, and for the D&D fans, munchkin tips are always useful.**


	3. Chapter 3

Aramil woke up to see Orion jumping on his stomach, and squeaking persistently.

He swatted him off."Orion, what the hell are you doing?" He heard the persistent knocking that had been going on. He yawned, getting up and casting _Silent Image_ to look like Balor again. Ain't no rule that said he can't concentrate or do extremely strenuous exercise from the moment he woke up. He walked over and opened the door, not saying a word. He didn't want to burn through his spell slots for the day. It was the Bartender, and apparently the owner.

"Sorry to bother you sir, but you have to pay now." She seemed pale, though she wasn't stuttering. He almost would've cared, if she hadn't been an NPC. He took out 10 gold pieces. He had seen the people downstairs use gold coins, so they weren't too from his home plane. He dropped them in her hand and closed the door. He fell back onto the bed. To save his spell slots, he turned the spell into a small cube, sending it to orbit around the room.

"Let's see, what's the plan for today...I could always go to the Obviously Haunted House and gain some XP. What do you think Orion?" Orion was currently trying to reach the cube, not realizing it was an illusion. "Yeah, you're right. Probably ghosts there, and I don't have magic missile." He sat up. "Although..."

He summoned his character sheet. He uttered a quick prayer upwards to any deity listening, and pulled out a quill. Character sheets were a common part of life for people back home. Some major NPC's had them, but 90% of them were PC's. For some odd reason, the majority of the people with them met each other in a tavern, and proceeded to form a ragtag adventuring group with humorously conflicting personalities that learn the true meaning of friendship.

Why that happened, he had no idea. But that was not the reason he was praying. Every time someone decided to change their character sheet in the middle of their quest, they were instantly struck down by a bolt of lightning, leaving them with exactly -9 hit-points. Those who tried to change large things, like their level or class, were instantly erased from existence. But, Aramil was still a first level sorcerer, with no XP, and at the start of what he assumed to be his campaign. So...

He tested the waters by adding two flaws, Frail and Vulnerable. He looked out the window. No lightening bolt sent to strike him down...yet. He crossed out his previous alignment (Lawful Neutral) and changed it to Chaotic Neutral.

Aside from reality bending around him slightly, and the faint sound of thunder, nothing harmful happened...yet.

Aramil felt a mischievous streak coming on and thought about changing himself into a Half-Celestial Half-Fiend Fiendish Celestial Vampire Half-Dragon, but decided against it. He'd stick with what he could get. Instead, he decided to go out and see what the shops were like. He brought the black cube around him and changed it to Balor again, adding a cloak of raven feathers for dramatic effect. Orion, who had been halfway through a pounce from the corner of the bed to finally get the cube, slammed into the ground. Aramil, hearing the brief flare of pain through the link, turned around to see him on his back.

"What are you doing, lying on the floor? C'mon, we have work to do."

* * *

Balor walked down the stairs, moving silently for the little bit of extra drama_. _When the bar patrons saw him coming down, conversation was ceased, except for a few whispered conversations. _This could prove useful for a false identity,_ Aramil mused as he exited the Three Broomsticks. He walked slowly among the path for a while, people going out of their way to avoid the mysterious stranger. Balor decided to go investigate the Obviously Haunted House of Doom.

He made his way up the hill. Had he not been randomly dumped in a possibly hostile environment, he would've enjoyed the cool summer air. He drew closer to the OHHoD, and was able to make out details he couldn't see from farther away. There was an overgrown garden that looked like it hadn't been used for centuries (Ghost), the windows and the door was boarded up (obviously by superstitious villagers to make sure none of the evil escaped.), and the boarded up door...he squinted. Was the door even attached? He opened the gate and stepped inside. He poked the door. Nothing happened.

He was about to leave when it collapsed into itself. _If that's not a plot hook, I don't know what is. _The inside was pitch black, and he could hear things skittering around inside. "Well, never let it be said adventurers aren't fools," as he crossed the threshold.

* * *

Aberforth was regretting this, even as he walked up the path to Hogwarts. The gates opened and closed behind him. Aberforth snorted.

"Not bad, Albus. Always had your nose in a book." Albus was already waiting for him by the Black Lake. "I received your message. You wished to speak with me?" He kept his eyes on the Giant Squid that was lazily drifting near the surface.

"Yeah. Around dusk, I stepped outside to feed the goats, Mundungus just started a brawl...Anyway, while I was feeding the goats, some stranger stepped out of the shadows." Albus raised an eyebrow. "A stranger? I don't see why this is concerning. Your bar tends to attract...an unsavory crowd."

"Yeah, but this was the oddest fellow I've seen in a while. Very tall, had a black robe on, corpse-like hands, and red eyes." Albus turned sharply. "Red eyes? Are you sure?" He looked worried. "Yeah, they looked like flames. He was also clutching a staff almost as tall as he was. He asked me for directions to somewhere where he could stay the night. I was all booked up, so I sent him to the Three Broomsticks. Don't think he's harmful, but...any person who looks like that should have an eye kept on him." He looked at Albus. "Wait, you don't think he's..."

Albus shook his head. "No, its impossible. He's somewhere in Albania, if my sources are correct. Besides, Voldemort- don't flinch Aberforth, fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. But I digress. He would never draw attention to himself like that. Do you know where he is at the moment?"

Aberforth nodded. "Yeah, he was snooping around the Shrieking Shack." "Thank you for the information. I'll take care of him." Albus vanished with a slight 'pop'. He blinked in surprise. "Huh. Got a few tricks up his sleeve."

* * *

"Okay, this house sucks."

Aramil had entered the house, expecting it to be full of ghosts and other undead, but what did he find?

Rats. Not Dire rats, not undead rats, and not undead Dire rats. Just ordinary rats. He managed to kick them all to death (they only had one hit-point), so he hadn't wasted any spells, but he had dismissed the illusion of Balor. And for killing 18 rats, he obtained...

300 XP. "Well, at least that's something." He put away his character sheet. "Too bad there weren't more." He had searched the entire house from top to bottom, and hadn't found anything but dust and rat droppings. He wondered if this was the universe's way of getting back at him. He looked around the shack. "You know, with a little _charm person_ Orion, we could probably convince a few people to help us clean this up. We might need a place to stay if we're going to be here for a while..."

"I must say, I did not expect to see this." Orion whirled around, pointing a dagger at the source of the voice. It was an old, bearded man in robes, with a hint of amusement dancing in his piercing blue eyes. He sheathed his dagger, but only because the man was obviously the type that could sneeze and bend reality to his command. "How long have you been in here?" The man smiled slightly. "I could ask you the same question." _Crap. _Without taking his eyes off the wizard, he picked up Orion. "Okay then. I'm just going to leave, if that's alright with you." He started backing up towards the door. "I'm afraid its not that simple. This place is private property."

"So?" He headed for the door. The moment he stepped outside, there was a loud _crack_. Three wizards had teleported around him, all pointing their wands at Aramil.

The old man sighed. "Also, I called the Aurors before I came in..." Their eyes widened as they looked at him. "What the hell is that?" He seized this as an opportunity. He punched the one he was facing in the nose, and pushed him out of his way. The two other wizards jumped in surprise, but recovered and started shooting what seemed to be red lights at him. They were catching up, so he prepared to-

He ran into the old wizard, who had teleported into his way.

"Sorry about this. _Stupefy."_ Aramil had just enough time to wonder what the hell he had said before everything turned black.

* * *

**And here enters Dumbledore, and the plot is finally picking up. I probably won't be updating for a few days, family matters. Anyway, read and review, and I'll get the next chapter up as soon as possible.**

**Storm out.**


	4. Chapter 4

Aramil woke up in a prison cell. _I've fallen unconscious a lot lately. _He was resting on a cot in the corner of the cell. There was a bucket of water by the cot. Outside the bars, the wizard whose nose he had broken was sitting on a bench opposite his cell. He was reading a magazine.

"Where's Orion?" The wizard ignored him. So he picked up the bucket, and threw the water in the wizards face. The wizard jumped up. "What the blazes"

"I SAID, where's Orion?" The wizard looked furious. "Who's Orion?" "My familiar." The wizard waved his hand dismissively. "No idea what you're talking about."

_Hmm. Orion must've hid back in the house. He should be fine. _He watched as the wizard pulled out a wand and waved it, his clothes instantly becoming dry. Aramil leaned against the wall. "Didn't now you could put more than one spell on a wand. What is that, some obscure feat?" The wizard gave him an odd look. "Still don't know what you're talking about. Now shut up, I'm not supposed to be talking to you."

He tapped his magazine and it dried itself. He sat down and turned the page. Aramil sat down and considered his options. He had none of his items, and he didn't have Orion to take the keys. He could use a _Mount _spell to bend the bars. But he didn't know where he was, and he'd most likely run out of spells very quickly.

The wizard said that someone in higher authority had forbidden him from speaking with him. That implied he was in some sort of political building. Perhaps the Aurors were the guardsmen of the kingdom? If that was so, he was in the center of the kingdom. He'd have better chances convincing a 1st level commoner he was a 20th level wizard then of escaping (Seriously, he probably could. 20 Charisma, Bluff as a class skill...that might be a fun project to later do.).

His best chance was to stay put, and find an opportunity to escape later. He might even find out the point of his campaign.

Or, he could spit in the face of authority, summon a horse right between the bars, and summon two more horses, one to ride out of wherever he was and the other for panic. That seemed much more fun.

However, before Aramil could put into motion his plan worthy of a swashbuckling bard (2 level dip, perhaps?), the door opened and two more aurors came in. "It's time. You are dismissed, Dawlish." The wizards pulled out a set of manacles.

"Sorry, I'm not a masochist. Dawlish might be, I haven't heard him complaining about his nose." The dark-skinned, taller man had to hide a smile, while Dawlish turned red and had to slink out of the room. The black-robed man however, had a face like a stone wall.

"These are not ordinary manacles. These have been enchanted. The moment you try to in any way to get rid of these, they will constrict and cut off your hands." His face was more blanker then a fighter's spell list. "Do you understand?" He had no way out other from dropping a horse on him. "Sure." They tapped the cell door and it swung open.

"Okay, time out." The tall one raised an eyebrow. "...Is there a problem?" "Of course there is, it's _that._" He gestured to the wand. "You have some crazy homebrew feat that allows you to put multiple spells on a wand, and you waste it on cantrips and _knock_?" He fell silent. "...Although, those may have been looted. But what kind of wizard spends his time doing that?" Black Robe and Tall Guy looked at each other and decided to say nothing. Tall Guy pulled out his wand. "Hold out your hands, do not attempt to escape, do not attempt anything else, or we will fire." "What are you going to do with _Knock_?" _But then again, every spell can be made deadly. _He held out his hands. Black Robe stepped forward, locking both hands, and hurriedly stepping back. They both moved out of the way.

"We will be right behind you, should you attempt to escape." Second day on another Material Plane and he was already in shackles, about to be escorted to Vecna knows where. He had no supplies, no allies, and no familiar, and had two hostile wizards with spells aimed for his back.

Aramil was grinning like a lunatic.

* * *

The wizards led him out of a long corridor lined with cells. Most of them were empty, and he saw only a few prisoners. _Perhaps these are just the holding cells. _Back on Aramil's home plane, there was a kingdom that gave those who were imprisoned for life or on death row clothing that sustained them and had a _Death Ward_ effect. Then they shoved them into the Negative Energy plane. Those who were mortal eventually died, and had their souls destroyed. If they were wizards however, they were killed, _Soul Binded_, had their remains turned to ash, scattered them over water, vaporized with a Maximized _Fireball_, froze the air, had the icecube thrown into the sun, and had the soul _plane-shifted_ to the Far Realm.

The program was scrapped however, as it only had a 43% success rate.

Another thing Aramil noticed, after his exposition, was that every prisoner had at least two guards watching his every move. _Okay, that's odd, and a complete waste of resources. Perhaps they're Simulacrums? ...Which would also be a waste. Probably all paranoid because some prisoner escaped. That makes more sense._

He got prodded in the back for slowing. "Keep moving." They marched down the corridor, turning left and arrived at a silver wall with a crack in it. Black Robe pressed a button beside it and waited. "So..."

The wall receded into the walls.

_"WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS IS THAT?!" _

Aramil leaped back, ready to cast _Ice Daggers _to hurl down the throat of the creature in the wall. "Black Robe, start casting however many spells you've got, Tall guy, get some backup here, now!"

They both looked at each other bemusedly. "It's an elevator, not a monster. Now get in." Aramil frowned. "What's an Elacator?" Tall Guy frowned. "You've never seen an elevator? It elevates you between different floors by...by magic."

He relaxed. "Ah, magic. Makes the world go 'round." He was prodded in the back by Black Robe. "Get in." He was propelled into the Elacator. It was cramped, and entirely made out of cold, unfeeling metal.

Just like his master's personality. _Ah, I'm already homesick. _According to a plaque by the metal buttons, they were on 'Level Two', which was the level for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Black Robe pressed a button, and the whole compartment shuddered and moved downwards.

_"We're all gonna die! Pray to whatever god you worship!" _

They both gave him an exasperated look. "For god's sake, we're not going to die!" "Oh." Aramil got up off the floor. "Okay." There was a pleasant 'ding' sound and the doors opened.

"Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee." A man covered in burns limped into the Elacator. He nodded to Black Robe and Tall guy. "Kingsley, Rufus." He got a look at Aramil. "What the...what is _that_?"

"A living sentient being." Aramil yawned. "Boy, you guys really are nice, huh?" Rufus spoke up. _"Silencio." _"What the hell is-" He choked for a moment as he was rendered mute. _What, they also have person-only silence spells? _"Nothing that you need to know, Arnie." The doors closed and they moved downwards again, with the doors opening on a 'ding' again and the voice speaking again.

"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau." He was grabbed by the shoulder and marched out of the elevator by Rufus. The Department had three entrances, labelled 'Being', 'Beast', and 'Spirit' respectively. He was escorted through the Being entrance.

"Through here." He was marched down a hallway with names labelled on the doors, probably the names of their inhabitants. They stopped at the fifth one, which was labelled 'Alistair Williams, Head of Classification for Existing and Newly Discovered Species.' _Ah. So that's the real reason I'm here. _Rufus opened the door and marched Aramil in.

* * *

Aramil first noticed the size of the room. It was obviously magical. The room would've easily fit a creature of Gargantuan size, maybe even Colossal.. The room was surprisingly blank, with no windows and no decorations. There was a desk, and there was a single stack of papers. Across from it, was an ominous looking chair.

The second thing he noticed was the multitude of people. Arguing, around the desk, was:

- A portly man in a lime green hat.

- A short squat women in pink who looked like a toad.

- A balding, middle-aged man who was sweating slightly.

- And the old wizard who knocked him unconscious.

They were all arguing when he entered the room. "Look, it's just a simple matter of" They had just noticed the arrivals. Aramil waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, don't stop on my account, go ahead." _So the spell wore off._ He walked over and sat down in the chair like it was a throne and crossed his legs. "So, should we get down to business?" He nodded at the Aurors. "Rufus, Kingsley, you're dismissed."

Rufus looked furious, but they left anyways. _Probably already had orders to._

The old wizard had the hint of a smile, while the Half-Toad _(never seen that template before) _looked outraged that he had walked in like he hadn't a care in the world. Bald Guy looked hesitantly over at Hat Guy, who nodded slightly. _Must be his boss._

"You are hereby charged with trespassing, breaking and entering, assault, and assaulting an officer. However, the Ministry of Magic is prepared to clear you of all charges, if you coöperate with the questioning."

The Half-Toad looked furious that the deal was even happening, while Alistair looked slightly excited at the thought of an undiscovered species. Hat Boss Guy looked slightly stressed, while Old Wizard Guy...was unreadable. "Fascinating. How about this: for every two questions I get to ask, you can get to ask me one question. Deal?" Boss Hat Guy looked outraged. "Who do you think you are, you can"t expect me to take that!"

Aramil shrugged. "Okay then. I'll take the charges, how much?" Boss Hat Guy looked confused. "I'm sorry?"

"I'll take the charges, what are the consequences?" He looked over at Old Wizard Guy. "I presume you are the owner of the property." The man smiled and bowed slightly. "I am." "And are you going to press charges?"

"I will not, as long as that does not happen again."

Aramil sighed. "Sorry, I thought there might be something in the house and I was just curious. It won't happen again." The man smiled. "Then there will not be any charges." "Good. As for the other charges, Dawlish and the other two Aurors were threatening me. They had their wands pointed at me. I can't be charged for panicking, can I? Last time I saw, his nose was perfectly fine."

Boss Hat Guy looked both furious and uncomfortable at the same time. "Well, if you can verify that, then I'm sure we can get to the bottom of this." Aramil raised a feathered eyebrow. "Or you could let me go, because this whole thing is sounding stupid. You're convicting me of punching someone in the nose whose nose already healed and is perfectly fine.." He turned to Old Wizard Guy. "Can I even be fined for that?"

"Not that I know off, unless Dawlish is willing to pursue charges." Aramil examined his fingernails. "Perfect. He isn't, said he didn't want to waste his time with me." He held out his arms. "So can someone take these off for me now?"

Old Wizard Guy looked over at Boss Hat Guy. "I don't suppose you have any other charges to bring forward, Cornelius."

Cornelius and The Half-Toad both looked furious, but were silent. "Perfect." The manacles fell open. _Did he seriously use a Silent Knock spell on manacles? Note to self: do not piss off Epic Old Wizard Guy._ Aramil sprang to his feet. "Fantastic. These last few minutes have been the most boring in the last six hundred years, so I hope to never see any of you Ministry types again. Good day."

He walked out of the room, leaving behind one fainted biologist, and three shocked wizards.

* * *

**Sorry about the long wait. I've been busy the past few days, so here's a extra-long chapter. And here are a few answers, if anyone's interested.**

**1. Q: Why'd you pick Toughness? That feat _sucks!_**

**A: I know. I've had my eye on Blood Magus for a while (free Scribe Scroll, Brew Potion, Teleport, Homunculus...), and the feat is a prerequisite. However, I have been considering entering Mystic Theurge (early entry trick to get it at level four), but... I can't decide. If anyone has any tips, I'd appreciate it.**

**2. Q: Will Aramil be able to use a wand?**

**A: Absolutely. It indicates that pretty much anything with magical blood can use a wand, so Aramil, being a sorcerer (draconic blood fluff), will be able to use one. **

**3. Q: Will characters from the Harry Potter 'verse be able to become Fighters/Sorcerers/Whatever?**

**A: Yup. It will be somewhat related to the plot.**

**4. Q: Will Aramil use his Balor persona again?**

**A: Yup. I'm trying to find a way to fit it in the plot.**

**See you next time.**

**Storm Out.**


	5. Chapter 5

Aramil walked out of the office and down the corridor. He walked out of the Being department and over to the elecator. Some people looked at him curiously, but he ignored them. "Okay, and here he comes in five...four..three...two...one...presto." Old Epic Wizard Guy turned around the corner. "Knew it." Old Epic Wizard Guy walked up and pressed the button. "Knew what?" _  
_

"That you wouldn't teleport out, would come after me, start a conversation, and deliver some valuable exposition." Epic Old Wizard Guy walked into the Elacator. "A question for a question, perhaps." "Fantastic. I'll go first. Where am I?"

"You are in the Ministry of Magic for Magical Britain, in London." Aramil looked confused. "What's a Britain?" Old Epic Wizard Guy frowned. "You're not from around here. Where are you from?" _Hmm...Should I tell him...Sure. _"A small village in the Silver Marshes of Faerun, on the Prime Material Plane. What's a Britain?"_  
_

The door opened again. Two female wizards walked in. "Dumbledore?" Old Epic Wizard Guy smiled. "Martha, Amelia, good to see you." Aramil looked at the wizards. "You know him?" The red-haired wizard laughed. "Know him? _Everyone _knows him. He's only the greatest wizard in the world." Aramil glanced over at Dumbledore. "Really?"

Dumbledore laughed softly. "I doubt that is the case-" Martha cut him off. "Nonsense. Everyone's been pressuring him for years to run for Minister, but he's just staying as headmaster of Hogwarts. Why that is, I have no idea. Oh, this is my floor..." The two female wizards stepped off, but he hardly noticed.

_Crap. Everyone and their mother wanted him to take the job, but he humbly remains at a school?_

He was estimating Dumbledore's level to be between 50 and Boccob. "So," He said to break the silence, "What happens now?" Dumbledore looked at him blue eyes that seemed to see through him. _Definitely Boccob. Fantastic_."Oh, it's entirely up to you. If I were you, I'd not remain around here. Cornelius has quite a temper." Orion was definitely his first priority. A thought struck him. "Dumbledore, do you have any idea where-"

"Where this is?" He produced Aramil's Handy Haversack out of nowhere. "Fascinating pockets." He gave it over to Aramil. "Thank you. How far is the three Broomsticks from here?"

They arrived at another floor and Dumbledore stepped out. "Several hundred miles." _Damn. _"I don't suppose you-" "Can take you there? I'd be happy to." _I really need a permanent mind blank._ He held onto Aramil's elbow. "Careful, this may be uncomfortable."

"How bad can it be?"

* * *

Aramil staggered away from Dumbledore. "I was wrong. That was terrible. The universe seems to hate me these couple of days." Dumbledore of course, looked perfectly fine. "I must admit, you see to have a high constitution. Most people become nauseated." "Well, I guess I rolled well." He felt his empathetic link open back up. Orion scurried through the grass, showing waves of anger through the link, and climbed up to his shoulder. "There you are, glad to see you're alright." He went into haversack and curled up.

"Seriously?"

He curled up extra tight. "Fine then, be that way." _Now, what to do... _"You should get home now. Your parents must be very worried." Aramil dug through his Haversack. Partially to make sure everything was there, partially to avoid Dumbledore's eyes. "I don't have any." Dumbledore sounded surprised. "None at all?"

"I'm five hundred years old, remember? I can take care of myself."

"I thought you said you were six hundred."

"Fine, I'm actually one thousand."

"But you just-" A look of understanding came over Dumbledore. "Ah, so that's it. What manner of Fey are you?" _Fantastic. _He froze. "And how do you now that?" He readied an action to cast _Ice Dagger _if Dumbledore casted an offensive spell toward him. "You seem to have quite the silver tongue. Furthermore, your...unusual eyebrows. Furthermore, you have no knowledge of this world, as if you have hardly interact. I can only think of a few stories that deal with creatures that behave in that manner. I believe I am correct?"

He grappled with the idea of telling him. "...Perhaps." Dumbledore chucked. "And the wordplay. The stories I have read always paint the Fey as never giving a direct answer." He looked Dumbledore in the eyes. "And what happens now?" Dumbledore smiled. "I offer you a place at Hogwarts, of course." Aramil frowned. "What's Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore pointed at something behind him. He turned to see an enormous castle looming over the village.

"Ah. I _knew_ I failed a Spot check."

* * *

As they walked up the path to Hogwarts, Dumbledore explained about the school and the village (which was called Hogsmeade, apparently something had a hog thing.). "There's the Forbidden Forest, which is off limits, obviously." All he heard was 'Side Quests and XP here'. "The four houses are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, named after the founders of Hogwarts." They walked up to the gates, which opened and closed behind them. _Fancy. Probably expensive, but fancy. _There was a boating house, right down next to an e_normous _lake. "The term starts in September, so there are only a few teachers here."

Aramil frowned. "..Okay. So where do I stay? I'm not going to be a student, am I?" "Only if you want to. As a magical being, you would be _capable_ of wielding a wand. Unfortunately, the Ministry forbids any creature other then a human to carry a wand." Aramil snorted. "Not surprising. Humans have a habit of doing this, time after time. Not that I need a wand of course, and anyway, I could always make one myself. If I wanted to spend a feat on that."

Dumbledore glanced at him. "I have a feeling our magic works in different ways. We should discuss this tomorrow. You must be exhausted." Now that he mentioned it, he felt like he was going to drop down any moment. "Here." Dumbledore flicked his wand. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then seven massive oak trees sprouted from the ground, roots wrapping around each other to form a log cabin, made out of living trees. Aramil stood shocked. He wasn't sure if _Warp Wood _or _Wood Shape _could do that, but only one thought crossed his mind.

_What kind of Druid takes Item Creation feats? _Dumbledore smiled. "I thought you might like it." "Umm...thanks." Dumbledore bowed slightly. "We can talk in the morning. Good night." He vanished into thin air. _A Silent Teleport? Well I guess it's the end of the day... _He walked towards the cabin and tried the door. It swung open silently, as if it was a normal door. _Not bad._

Inside was the same as the outside. There were drawers (made from roots), three lanterns floating in the air, and somehow, he managed to fit in a mattress and a blanket on a bed of branches. There was also a basket-sized bowl sticking from the wall, lined with wool. "Oh, you've got a bed too, Orion." Orion jumped out of the Haversack, landing in the bowl. _Sweet dreams. _Suddenly impulsive, he went over to the drawers and tested the top one. It slid open perfectly.

Aramil sighed. "_Wizards. _They break the laws of physics by casting spells, and break the laws of the spells themselves." He put his Haversack in the top drawer, and shut it. He stripped down and climbed into bed. _Pretty incredible day. At least Dumbledore seems nice. He did get me this cabin, and a really comfy bed..._

He closed his eyes as the room faded into darkness...

* * *

**And that's another one. Questions, reviews, compliments, death threats...Post them. I'll take what I can get.**


	6. Chapter 6

Aramil woke up comfortably, drifting in and out of consciousness before waking up fully. He yawned, sitting up and looking around the room. It was the same as last time. The lanterns were the same color as dawn, which he guessed changed as the day changed. Orion was still asleep, occasionally twitching in his sleep. He was contemplating what to do when there was a beautiful ringing sound, and all of reality seemed to bend.

He had just leveled up.

He immediately grabbed his character sheet and a quill. _Must've gotten some story XP. _For his new spell, he picked _Prestidigitation. _It was sort of an embarrassment that he didn't pick it as a starting spell. He poured over _Dragon Magic_, seeing if there was anything worth there. He crossed out 'Weasel' under Orion's entry and changed it to 'Huitzil'. Orion turned smoothly into one, wings, horn, and all, still sleeping despite the change. _He's going to be angry at me when he wakes up. Oh well. _He contemplated what else to do with his build.

"Hmm...I _could_ try and go gestalt, though that might just erase me from existence." The flames flickered, as to prove a point. "Perhaps Favored Soul? 24 Charisma could prove useful. Or I could aim for Fiend-Blooded- dammit, humanoid requirement. Favoured Soul it is, then. Nah, skill points are important." He flipped through his sourcebooks. "Hmm, Heartwarder...could go with Thaumaturgist if I take Domain Access...Wild Mage seems alright..nah, too many cross-class skills. Wild Soul it is, then."

He scratched out Toughness and replaced it with Still Spell. Using one of his flaws, he put Sculpt Spell. With the other one, he put Nymph's kiss. The extra skill point could come in handy. _Okay, I can get Item Familiar at third, become a Wild Soul at sixth level, then Otherworldly Countenance at six. And then I'll go find a Shadow Sibling, and bond with it. Good thing I know Undercommon.__  
_

His musings were interrupted by a spike of alarm through the empathetic link. Orion had just woken up, and he was _not_ happy. He flapped around in confusion, until he realized what had just happened, and who was probably responsible. So he flew over and bit Aramil's hand.

"Ow! Orion, I don't see what you're so angry about. You have wings now!" Orion crossed his spindly arms and looked away. "You also have claw attacks and the dragonblood subtype..." He could feel a bit of curiosity emanating from him, though he tried to hide it.

"Did I mention I took the Drakken Familiar class feature? You don't get the benefit of the dragonblood subtype, but when I level up, you'll be able to breath a fifteen-foot cone of fire. Once an hour, though. But still, you'll be able to fly around and breath fire. You'll be like a miniature dragon." Aramil's high Charisma won him over. He was peaceful now, though Aramil could tell he would not be happy with any further changes. He dressed up, while Orion flew around, testing out the limits of his new form.

"Wow, this is dirty. _Prestidigitation._" The dirt and cuts started to disappear, second by second, cleaning him at the same time. "Fantastic." He jumped when there was a large booming sound, like someone was trying to break down the front door. He crept over to the door, drawing his dagger. When the booming started again, he swung open the door, prepared to-

There ws a large wildly-bearded man, wearing a heavy coat that looked like it was older then he was. In one hand he carried the leash of a huge dog, the other gigantic hand was about to knock.

"Uh..." There was a moment of silence as they both took in the other. "...I'm guessin' yer Ararmil?" He narowed his eyes. "That depends on who's asking." "Rubeus Hagrid. I'm tha Groundskeeper o' Hogwarts. Dumbledore asked me to come fetch you for breakfast on my way to the castle." He looked past Aramil into the Tree Cabin. "Blimey, the things he can do with magic...You comin?" He sheathed his dagger. It wouldn't go well for him if he just started shanking random NPCs. "Yeah, just a moment." He went over to the drawer and took out his Haversack. Even if it was just for breakfast, there was a thousand things that could go wrong. The school go blow up, the Tree Cabin could be light on fire, a giant monster could be released inside the castle, causing everyone to leave...It was safer to take all his stuff with him. He met Hagrid at the door.

"Okay, I'm ready." Hagrid looked at Orion with curiosity. "What's that?" Aramil glanced at Orion while they were walking. "Oh, Orion? He's my familiar. He's a Huitzil. Bred from dragons mating with birds centuries ago. Obsession with shiny things, but fairly good familiars." He hummed a tune absentmindedly, not noticing the look of deep thought on Hagrid's face. They walked up the steps, and through the giant doors. There was a fairly large entrance hall (he was beginning to think Hogwarts was a school for giants), and then the arrived at an enormous banquet hall.

There were four huge tables at all four corners. There were banners of red, green, yellow, and blue on the walls, probably signifying the Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw houses respectively. There was a somewhat long table that looked like it belonged at the front of the room, but had been brought to the middle for some reason. Dumbledore and four other people (obviously teachers), were already eating.

"Ah, Hagrid, Aramil, good to see you! Please, sit down." Aramil sat down across from Dumbledore, while Hagrid sat down in a chair that looked like it was specifically made for him. Dumbledore passed him a empty plate. "Try the eggs, they're quite good." He stared at the blank plate. Maybe Dumbledore wasn't as wise as he thought. "...Okay."

The plate suddenly filled itself with freshly made eggs. _Note to self: Don't underestimate old, bearded wizards. _He divided the food in half, then started slicing up pieces for Orion. He gobbled them up greedily while Dumbledore introduced the others sitting at the table. "Aramil, this is Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor and teacher of Transfiguration." The stern-looking woman looked up from the letters she was writing and offered a brief smile. "This is Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff and the Herbology teacher."

The plump, short woman smiled motherly. "This is Professor Flitwick, teacher of Charms and head of Ravenclaw." He was pretty sure the man was either a Gnome or a Halfling. "And this is Professor Snape, Potions Master and head of Slytherin House." The thin man with sallow skin, shoulder length greasy black hair, and eyes that looked like tunnels stared at him like Aramil was something he found n the bottom of his boots. He looked so obviously evil that he probably wasn't evil, and _that_ was probably a ruse, so he was evil, so...

_He's probably at least a specialized Necromancer, _Aramil thought. "And you've already met Hagrid, our Gamekeeper, and starting in September, our new Care of Magical Creatures teacher." Aramil smiled. "Nice to meet you all. I'm Aramil, and this is Orion." Everyone looked at Orion with curiosity, who was currently making shapes in his eggs.

"...What exactly is that?" Aramil swallowed hastily. "My familiar. He's a Huitzil." Everyone was silent. "And what, is a Huitzil?" Professor Flitwick looked at it with curiosity. "A Huitzil. Descended from the couplings of polymorphed dragons and birds. What, do you not have them here or something?" Everyone looked at each other and decided to continue eating.

"So, Pomona, about that fascinating plant from the Amazon..."

Aramil tuned out the NPC conversation. There were more important things then listening to the miscellaneous conversation of NPCs, like being a level 20 Monk/Truenamer. He finished up his eggs and looked over his character sheet. _Hmm...nothing to change here. _The sound of fluttering wings drew his attention.

A pack of owls flew in through a skylight, with odd objects clutched in their beaks. They flew down to the table, landing in front of everyone except him. They extended their legs, which had pouches on their legs. Everyone dug around in their pockets, and put a few bronze-colored coins in the pouches. The owls then dropped their collection of papers, and flew out the skylight again.

Everyone opened up their papers, like it was a perfectly normal thing that happened everyday. He made a Spot check. The pictures were moving. The image of a corpse-like man looked at him grimly. _Okay, so they're Wondrous items. I guess that's normal._ Hagrid offered the paperto Aramil. "You wan't it? Not that much interestin' stuff." Aramil shrugged. "Sure." He took the paper, scanning over the front page.

_ The Daily Prophet. The most popular newspaper in Britain. Still no idea what a_ _Britain is,_ he mused. He flipped through the pages. There was an escaped prisoner, a wealthy wizard had retired, a dragon had been seen by 'Muggles'. _Seems to be for informing the public about events that occur. _Apparently the 'Muggles' saw a white dragon flying through the sky.

_That's odd. White dragons are extinct. _Wizards in Faerun had gone on a world-wide campaign to kill every white dragon in existence years ago. Something about Dragonwrought Kobolds.

Everyone finished up their breakfasts. Professor Flitwick got off his chair. "Well, I've got my curriculum to work on. Still got to tweak out the details." The professors all got up, citing various excuses. Hagrid got to his feet. "I best be off now. The Threstals aren't going to feed themselves. He walked out of the banquet hall, his heavy footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

He glanced at Dumbledore, who was sitting perfectly still with his hands folded in his lap, staring at the see-through ceiling. A minute passed and he didn't stir.

Two minutes...

Three minutes...

Four minutes...

When it had been five minutes, Aramil had enough. "Did you want to ask me something?" He asked with a hint of irritation. Dumbldore managed to look perfectly innocent. "If that is what you wish." "Fine." He played around with the empty goblet. "What do you want to know?"

"How old are you?" Aramil thought about it. He had no idea what the date was here, or if the calendar was remotely similar to his. "About eight hundred or so years." Dumbledore looked visibly surprised. "Really?" "Yeah. Still considered a child, by the standards of the Fey. Most of us are immortal."

Dumbledore looked him in the eyes for a few seconds as if he was scanning him. After a few seconds, he relaxed. "So you're telling the truth. Well then, we can skip my next question. Where were you born?"

"Can't remember." Dumbledore frowned. "You mean you have forgotten, due to your age?" Aramil shook his head. "Nope. No idea at all. My earliest memory was me waking up by the banks of a waterfall, fully grown, wearing robes fit for a king. A Fossergrim- a fey bound to a waterfall- came out to investigate. He most likely would've left me where I was, if I was human. But when he saw I was a Shee, he carried me to his cavern behind the waterfall and took me in." Aramil fell silent, remembering how Edric was killed by a drow scouting party a few months after he left.

"Fascinating." He scribbled a few notes down on parchment. "And a Shee is?" "One of the many subraces of Fey. We're considered the most powerful and beautiful of the Fey." Aramil looked down at his hands. "The rest of the Fey look up to us. They consider us to...be the reincarnated forms of lost gods." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Really? And what do you believe?"

Aramil shrugged. "No idea. Would be perfect for my backstory, though. So anyways, after that the waterfall stopped flowing, So I wandered around for eight hundred years. Witnessed wars, saw empires fall, even saw the death of gods. I got bored, decided to become a wizard's apprentice. After a few years of working for him, he was invited to a friend's house to study the creation of new potions. I spilled some on me, and then I got transported here."

Dumbledore looked shocked. "Gods? You saw the deaths of _gods_?" "He looked up. "Hmm? Yeah. They were only demigods, but still, doesn't happen everyday." Dumbledore scratched down a few more notes. "You said a potion brought you here. What was it?"

Aramil had almost forgotten. "A potion of _Plane shift._ I know that only spells of third level and under can be made into potions, but...wizard." Dumbldore nodded. "Ah yes, that was another thing. Pretend I am someone who knows absolutely nothing about any kind of magic whatsoever."

"Umm...Okay." It wasn't easy, mainly because he looked like he could be Boccob himself. "So there are nine types of spellcasters in core, seven of them are base classes. There are two types, arcane and divine. Divine magic comes from religious faith in a concept or entity." He paused to let Dumbledore write it all down. "Go on." "Divine casters generally have to prepare their spells in advance, but they can prepare any spell of any level that is available to them. Rangers, Clerics, Paladins, and Druids are divine spellcasters."

"Arcane magic is different. Anyone can become a Bard or Wizard, through study. I think. Wizards find their spells through scrolls and research. They're prepared casters. A Bard is a spontaneous caster, which means he can cast spells without taking time to prepare them, but he only knows a limited amount of spells per level. Spontaneous casters can generally cast more spells per day then prepared casters. Sorcerers, however, are born, not made. They can cast spells due to them having some inherently magical blood. Tends to be dragon blood."

"And I think that's it, really. Without getting into Warlocks, or Favored Souls, or prestige classes." Dumbledore finished up his notes. "Perfect. I just have a few questions. First, what do you mean by spell levels?"

Aramil was pretty sure he went straight through the Far Realm and to whatever madness laid beyond. "Spell levels. The ten levels of magic for all casters. You gain access as you level up. What, do you not have them here?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "There are certain spells that require a large amount of magical power, but generally even a beginning wizard of our world can cast any spell."

"That is _so _broken." He relaxed. "Well, at least you have a limited amount of spells per day, right?"

"Actually, no. Theoretically, a wizard could cast a spell every second, provided he remembered the incantation and wand-work. And what do you mean by leveling up?"

Aramil sighed. "This is going nowhere. Okay, I'm going to explain things now, very carefully..."

* * *

Dumbledore and Aramil walked down the steps, squinting a little as they arrived in the early-day sunlight.

"Fascinating. So you're saying you gain XP for every challenge you overcome?" Dumbledore frowned. "Wait. I already know that. Why am I repeating that?" Aramil glanced at Orion, who was flying in lazy circles above them. "Time skip. You can use it to skip things, while retaining the memory of what happened. Most NPCs don't notice it. I don't like to use it too much, might get smited by the DM."

They walked down to his cabin. "Your world seems to run on rules similar to games in the muggle world, where the players can 'level up' by defeating enemies. I'll look into it, but I don't expect much. As you seem to have nothing to do, you can go help the other teachers with whatever they need, starting tomorrow. For now, you have the day off."

"The Forbidden Forest is forbidden, obviously, but you may wander the castle and grounds to your leisure. Now if you'll excuse me, I have many things to do."

And he vanished with a small 'pop' noise. _Apparating seems useful. At will teleportation? Sign me up. _He smiled and went to open the door before he noticed something.

The door was already an inch open.

Now it was possible that maybe he forgot to close it, or the growing of the tree made it open. But Aramil didn't survive for eight hundred years by having a bad memory.

Plus, he could hear someone in there.

He got out his dagger, holding it in his left hand while his right was ready to cast a spell. _One...Two..Three!_

He kicked open the door with a yell, prepared to stab whatever was there into tiny bits.

* * *

**And that's another. Sorry about the delay. Computer broke, wedding, fell asleep..I'll get the next one up as soon as possible.**

**Storm out.**


	7. Chapter 7

He barreled in, ready to cast _Ice Dagger _when something stopped him in his tracks.

There was a girl he ever saw before in his life, sitting on his bed like she owned the place.

She had a long, silky, mane of dark green hair. She was dressed in a faded simple tunic that looked like it was quite old. She had several bracelets and charms on her wrists, which looked like she made them herself. Aramil noted she had a dagger, which was strapped above her anklet. She was resting against the bed's headboard, calmly filing her nails. She didn't react at all to Aramil's abrupt entrance.

His dagger was still awkwardly raised above his head. "Uh...Who the hell are you?"

She slowly stopped and met his gaze. "About time. I've been waiting forever." She tossed the file away and bounced off the bed. She walked to Aramil and looked him over. "Hmm. A bit on the scrawny side. At least you're good-looking. Somewhat." Aramil sheathed his dagger. Hopefully she wasn't a Succubus or a Brachina. _Actually, that wouldn't be the most terrible way in the world to die_. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know _you_." She crossed her arms. Aramil just noticed that she was glowing. So she was a Sirine, That made sense. There was a lake nearby. "PCs. They never stop to think of the consequences. Think, idiot. When was the last time you did anything fey-related?"

"Hmm..." He strained to think past the confusing block of the timeskip. "Well...I was deciding on prestige class options, I settled on Wild Soul. After that, I used up one of my bonus feats to get Nymph's Kiss..Oh." "Yup."

He felt a bit awkward. "So you were just...plucked from the Material Plane and _Plane-shifted _here?" She shook her head. "Nah." She frowned. "At least, I don't think so. My sisters and I always lived in the lake. So when we found that you took it, we drew straws. Whoever lost, had to go."

A thought struck him. "Wait, isn't Nymph's Kiss technically an Exalted feat?" He sat down on the bed, kicking off his shoes.

She jumped back on the bed beside him. "Pssh. You're a PC. The universe bends over backwards to suit your needs."

"And also-"

"Rule Zero."

"Yeah, but-"

"Technically by RAW, or Rules As Written, there's no official prerequisites."

"Really?" Aramil flipped through the _Book of Exalted Deeds. _"...Okay, that's so cheesy even Pun-Pun wouldn't do that. You'd get annihilated by the DM." He slammed the book shut and it dissolved. "Okay, so you drew the short straw." "I volunteered. It was boring in the lake."

She had a _very_ winsome smile, he noticed distractedly.. His thoughts felt like mud. "Umm...so what's your name? I guess we should get to know each other...If we'll be seeing each other a lot."

"I'm Myra."

"Just Myra?"

"Actually, it's Myra Civitas De Lumen Ec Praecantatio, but you can call me Myra."

He blinked in surprise. "Wow. Didn't expect that. Umm... nice to meet you, Myra. I'm Aramil."

"Just Aramil?" She had a teasing smile on her lips. Her plump, inviting, lips...

He shook his head and looked away from her lips. "Umm, okay.." He drummed his hands on his legs. "So...Um...You said you had sisters? What are they like?" Myra raised an eyebrow, but spoke anyways. "They're alright. There's seven of us, so it can feel a bit cramped at times. But...yeah, they're alright."

"Oh, good." They sat in silence for a few minutes. He pulled out his silver dagger and started polishing it. Myra started fiddling with her anklet.

"Wait, so we're not on the Material Plane?"

"Hmm?" Aramil looked up from the imaginary dirt on his dagger.

"Earlier, you implied that we weren't on the Material Plane." She gestured outside, where Aramil could see a bit of Hogwarts through the partially closed door. "Seems pretty normal to me. There's no..."

"All-Powerful Outsiders trying to devour us?"

Myra laughed, which Aramil found he liked. "Yeah, that." Aramil sighed. "Well, it's a _very _long story. So I'm just going to skip it via time-skip. So, it all started when I got _Plane-Shifted..._"

* * *

"Wow," Myra sat up. "So you got _Plane-Shifted, _jailed, and then released?" Myra frowned. "Damn time-skips. Always forcing you to say things that you already know."

Aramil shrugged. "Still damn convenient, though."

She nodded. "True. Any idea where this is?"

"No idea, but..._Silent Image._" A glass model appeared between them, its gears and multicolored glass circles constantly turning.

"Was that really necessary?" "Yes. Now hush." He gestured to a multicolored circle of black, grey, and white, which increased in size. "This represents the Material Plane. The strips of black and white are the Plane of Shadow and the Ethereal Plane, which are coterminous with the Material Plane."

Myra idly examined her fingernails. "Love it when you get all technical."

"Shut up. Okay, so circling the trio are the four Elemental Planes of Fire, Water, Air, and Earth." As he listed the names, the red, blue, sky-blue, and brown glass circles lit up respectively.

"And what does this have to do with anything?"

"Quiet, I'm almost there. The farther you travel from the Material Plane, the more..._otherworldly_ it gets. Which is why the Nine Hells, the Abyss, Limbo, and others are on the edge of the wheel." The outermost circle glowed a bright blue. "And that brings us to the Far Realm. If you were paying any attention at all, it would be located on the farthest part possible."

A multicolored, rapidly changing glass circle appeared three feet away from the edge of the circle. "And where's this plane?" questioned Myra, who seemed to finally be getting the concept.

"I'd love to show you, but _Silent Image _doesn't extend to the bottom of the Black Lake." Myra rolled her eyes. "Ha ha." She reached for the nail file. "I'm sure whatever you've seen, it's not actually that-"

"They don't have Hit Dice."

Hr eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. The nail file flew out of her hand like it was launched from a catapult. Aramil, who had a terrible Reflex save, barely ducked in time. The nail file buried itself in the wall.

Meanwhile, Myra hardly noticed that she almost killed her...friend. "You're joking." Aramil noticed the illusion had just gone out. He cautiously got up to his feet. "I wish I was. But they don't. They have wizards, though."

Myra relaxed. "Oh, good. At least there's _some_ normalcy on this plane."

He grinned. "...That have unlimited Spells Per Day and Spells Known." Myra threw up her hands. "Okay, this place makes no sense. I'm out. See you tomorrow." She strolled out of the door in a hurry.

* * *

Orion came in after a few minutes. He fluttered through the door, holding a pile of something in his hands.

Aramil stood up. "And where have you been all this time?"

He flew closer, and Aramil could see what was in his hands. There, in his scaly, claw-like hands, were the remains of several half-bitten butterflies.

Aramil sighed. "Seriously? Huitzils don't even need to eat butterflies. You're supposed to eat fruit. Butterflies are junk food. No more butterflies for you." He brushed the mini corpses out of his claws. "You'll spoil your appetite." He could tell Orion was both spontaneously disappointed and amused. He sensed some sort of curiosity through the link, though he couldn't tell the exact source of it. He could, however, guess.

"Oh, Myra? Well...You know how I took the Nymph's Kiss feat? Wait, you were asleep. Anyway, I did. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Ys, it's an Exalted feat. However, as RAW, there's no prerequisites. "

"Also, Rule Zero."

"But I digress. So I took the feat. Coincidentally, there's a family of Sirines living in the Black Lake. So one of them volunteered to come see how I was, that being Myra. So, yeah. Also we figured out where this was on the Great Wheel. We decided this was somewhere far away from the edges of the Wheel. Even past the Far Realm, considering even those abominations have stats. Not sure what that helps with, but academic knowledge can always help."

Orion touched down in his basket, scattering around the wool, going promptly to sleep.

He sighed. "Nice to see you again, too. He looked out the door. The sun was slowly setting, throwing long shadows across everything. Wow. He had talked with Myra for the entire day? _Good thing PCs don't need to eat as much as NPCs. _

"Hmm...Let's see." He checked his character sheet. "Ooh, I've gained 500 XP. So that leaves me with...2000 XP. One thousand XP to go until level third. Then I can get the Item Familiar feat, then I'll essentially skip to seventh or eighth level." He dismissed his character sheet. "Okay, time for bed."

He stripped down to his underclothing, placing them in the topmost drawer. He got in bed and snapped his fingers. The lights instantly turned pitch-black.

"Huh, didn't think that was possible." He yawned. "Sweet dreams, Orion."

Naturally, he didn't get it.

* * *

**And here's another. Sorry for the long delay. I'll update as soon as possible. But seriously, there's no requirements for Nymph's Kiss. Go look in BEoD. I've seen entire threads erupt into chaos over this little tidbit.**

**Storm out.**


	8. Chapter 8

Aramil was standing on a cloud. As far as he could ell, there was nothing around him for miles. _Okay, this is a weird dream. I'm just floating on the Astral Plane? Better find out what I'm doing here. Hmm...how do I move? Oh right, subjective directional gravity. _He imagined moving forwards.

He felt an odd sensation as his body/spirit/soul/whatever was pulled forward.

He kept an eye out for anything odd, but he pretty sure there wasn't anything in the dream. Plus, he had a terrible record with Spot checks, so he could miss the Tarrasque floating behind him. He took a quick look behind him, just in case there was some sort of god-killing Colossal-sized abomination.

There was nothing. But when he looked forward again, he almost ran/floated right into it.

At first, he thought it was some sort of enemy, so he was halfway through the casting of an _Ice Dagger _before he realized this was all a dream, so he couldn't actually _do_ anything. He took a step/float back, and saw the full scope of it.

There was a _crack _in the Astral Plane.

"What the Hells?" He floated around it. It wasn't really visible from the back, though he could see the edges of it. He floated around to the front again and examined it. It was enormous, easily bigger then a Great Wyrm. In fact, all of Hogwarts would look smaller then a mosquito compared to it.

He jumped when there was a large _THUD _sound. The crack shuddered, growing slightly larger.

_Crap._ So there was something trying to force its way onto the Astral Plane. Aramil could think of a dozen possibilities for what was trying to get in, none of them good.

"Okay, I'm outta here."

There was a particularly loud _THUD_ and the crack slammed open. Through the crack, he could see a single, blood-shot eye the size of the Black Lake.

Aramil froze. "Umm...nice doggy?"

The entire plane shook as massive cracks appeared all over. The cracks started expanding as the first one, until there were thousands upon thousands of enormous blood-shot eyes staring at him. He never knew eyes could look so _creepy._

"Okay...This sucks."

There was a loud _cracking_ sound, and the Astral Plane shattered.

* * *

Aramil woke up in a cold sweat. "What the Hells was that?!"

He sprang out of bed, scrambling through the drawers for some parchment to write it down. _Crap crap crap __there's a crack in the Astral Plane and something came through. _He finally found some and started writing down his experience.

"Astral Plane...Cracks...Eyes. Got it." Aramil wasn't sure of the many, massive consequences of the Astral Plane shattering, but he knew that all transportation magic would cease to work. Perhaps it was related to why he was drawn to this plane, of all the planes out there. And even if it was metaphorical, or hadn't happend yet, it was still concerning. He was still looking over his hastily-written note when he noticed something odd about the cabin. The lights corresponded with the sky outside, which was why it was a pleasant dawn-pink.

So why was it so dark?

Aramil turned around slowly. _Of all the times I forget to put my dagger under the pillow..._

There was something else in the cabin with him.

At first, Aramil could hardly see the cloaked figure. It seemed to be particularly hard to make out, as if it _was_ the source of the darkness. It was about the same size as him, maybe a little taller. The figure was about the same width as he was. It could almost pass for human.

That was, if it didn't have tentacles growing out of its neck.

It tilted its head to the side, as if it was examining him. Nodding to itself, it took a few steps forward.

"Okay, that's it. _Ice Dagge-"_

_"Modify Memory."_

* * *

Aramil frowned. It was dawn, and he was standing by his drawer in his underclothing.

"That's odd," He said out loud, "I don't remember getting up..." He thought he heard something like a whisper from the corner of the cabin.

_Wait, now__ I remember._ He had woken up after a pleasant dream about flying, decided to get up and stretch a bit, and walked over to the drawer to change into his robes. He examined the piece of parchment on his drawer. "Hmph. Just a bunch of scribbles and nonsense. I should _really _stop letting Orion go through my Haversack." He tossed it aside.

He hummed an elven tune as he donned his robes. "Okay, eat breakfast, help out the teachers with whatever they need, come back here, maybe see Myra...got the whole day planned out." He looked over at Orion, who was still asleep. _I guess I'll go without him. _He clipped his sheath to his belt, making sure it was secure.

"Hmm...feel like I'm forgetting something...Nah, it's probably nothing."

* * *

He stepped out into the open, squinting from the light. He left the door open a crack for Orion, in case he woke up later. The dawning light gave everything a soft, faded look. Aramil checked his character sheet. He was planning to add the Spark template, but he wanted to check over his ability scores. "What the hell?"

He had just gained 500 XP.

He frowned. _That's weird. I didn't do anything of significance, unless sleeping is a heroic act here. _He shrugged. "Still, I'm not complaining. Free XP." He looked his scores over.

"Okay, I have 16 Wisdom, so I can afford to give up two points for the Spark template. I'll have 14 Wisdom and 26 Charisma..Or, I could take the Fey-Touched template, upgrade to the Fey Legacy thing...Or I could have both/all three. All three it is then, if I can find a rebuild quest suitable." He put the sheet away as he jumped up the steps to Hogwarts. As he turned the corner into the Great Hall, he heard voices arguing.

"The parents won't stand for this, you know. Once they hear you decided to put those..._things_ near their children, you'll get voted out of office so fast, you'll get whiplash!"

"Now now, Minervra, this isn't something you can just give a once-over! Sirius Black is still in Britain! You can't just leave Hogwarts unprotected!"

Aramil leaned against the wall and surveyed the scene before him. Boss Hat Guy (who Dumbledore had identified as Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Fudge), was anxiously twirling his bowler hat, while simultaneously arguing with Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore. McGonagall was looking quite angry, while Dumbledore looked as calm as ever. The pink Half-Toad who had been identified as Dolores Umbridge, was standing slightly behind him, smiling in that unpleasant manner. The other teachers were sitting at the table. They were completely ignoring their breakfast, staring at the argument with rapt attention.

Aramil walked up to Fudge casually. "Cornelius!" He exclaimed as if he was meeting an old friend, and not someone who threw him in prison. "I didn't expect to see you here."

As he expected, Fudge looked angry, scared, and extremely uncomfortable all at once. Umbridge looked furious that a lowly, no-good (technically she was right, he was Chaotic Neutral), non-human was walking up to the supposedly most powerful man in Britain and treating him like a close friend.

He looked between the professors and the Ministry workers. "So, what's going on then? I could hear the argument as soon as I stepped inside."

Fudge waved him off. "Oh it's nothing, Dumbledore and I were just-"

"No, it is not just _nothing._" He could tell why the Talking Hat sorted her into the House of the Lion. "Our _dear_ Minister Fudge over here was just telling us about how he thinks Dementors should be placed around the school for protection."

Aramil looked over at Dumbledore, or as he liked to call him, The Exposition Wizard. "And Dementors are...?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Dementors are Non-Beings, feeding off of the happiness of humans, leaving depression and fear to anyone near them. They can administer what is commonly referred to as 'The Dementor's Kiss'. They preform this by clamping their jaws around their victim's mouth, and suck out the soul. Dementors are resistant to all spells currently known, except for the Patronus Charm."

"Thank you, Dumbledore." He turned back to Fudge. "Okay. So what you're saying, is that you want to put soul-devouring abominations around a place that's going to be constantly full of happy children with souls that have little magical power, and expect them to behave perfectly? Sure, let's go with that. No holes in that plan."

Umbridge interrupted with that annoying little laugh of hers and a toxic smile. "I don't think that a child like yourself can grasp-"_  
_

_"Mount."_

A pony appeared out of thin air, making a shocked Umbridge fall over with a scream. "Sit on her."

The pony promptly obeyed, kneeling down and sitting on her back, completely ignoring her muffled curses. "Good pony." He turned back to Fudge, who looked horrified. "So back to what we were talking about..."

"Aramil." Professor McGonagall was trying to keep a smile off her face, quite unsuccessfully. "I believe it would be best if you..dismissed the horse currently sitting on Dolores."

Aramil glanced over at Umbridge. "The spell won't end until four hours have passed."

"Then order it to get up!" Fudge snapped at him. He seemed quite angry.

"It only follows one instruction, so it wont do anything else until it vanishes. Strangely resistant to magic, though." It was a terrible, transparent lie, but Dumbledore just shrugged.

"Well Cornelius, it seems we have time to discuss your proposal. If you could follow me to office...?" Fudge looked over at Umbridge, who was sill flailing under the weight of the nonchalant pony. "Uh...yes, I guess that would be the best use of our time..." With a glowering look at Aramil, Fudge followed Dumbledore out of the hall.

"Well, glad that's over." He took his seat and grabbed a plate of toast. They ate in silence for a while, until Hagrid brought up the topic of Umbridge.

"So...how much longer is that gonna last?"

Aramil glanced up at the sky. "Hmm...about three and a half hours or so. Or I could get rid of it." Professor McGonagall frowned. "I thought you said the spell won't end until four hours have passed." "True. I can dismiss the spell at any time. I never said I had to wait until the end." He looked over at Umbridge, who was trying to reach for her wand. "Should I dismiss it now?"

Everyone looked at each other. They continued eating. Aramil shrugged. "It's decided, then. The pony stays." Snape glanced over at the pony like it was an insect. "Be that as it may," he drawled, "Umbridge is the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. It would not be wise to antagonize her. She could make your life _very_ difficult." He raised an eyebrow. "So? Amusement here, for a little bit of trouble in the future. Worth it." Snape snorted softly, returning to stabbing his breakfast as if it had offended him.

* * *

Aramil pushed away his now empty plate. The teachers had already finished a few minutes before him, and were walking off to their various tasks. He decided to hurry after Snape.

Snape had taken a different route then the other Professors. Half-way down the corridor, he stopped. Aramil caught up to his side and he started walking again, at a faster pace, still looking forward. "I presume you're following me for a good reason?"

"Um, yes. Dumbledore asked me to assist the teachers, so I was just wondering if you needed any help?"

Snape stopped abruptly, and looked at Aramil. "And why, did you decide to assist me, of all the other teachers?" Aramil shrugged. "No idea. I just thought you might need some assistance."

Snape's eyes seemed to be piercing right into his mind. After a few moments, he nodded reluctantly. "Very well. Follow me. I have a few...tasks you might be able to help me with."

As he followed Snape down the featureless corridor, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched...

* * *

**And the plot thickens...**


	9. Chapter 9

He followed Snape down the corridor, turning right at a painting of a unicorn that had a wig, for some bizarre reason. They arrived at a staircase that seemed to go on forever. He jumped a bit when the staircase moved, switching to a different landing. _Oh right, magic. _As he followed Snape down the stairs, he calculated the cost it would take to animate that many objects.

_Okay, if there's about ten objects, then it would take...30 000 XP, A Permanency spell, and an Animate Objects. But since Animate Objects is a cleric/bard only spell, and Permanency is only Sor/Wiz...it would take a level 14th Sorcerer/Wizard, and a level 11 Cleric/Bard 12. Or if they're using scrolls..._

Aramil hardly noticed them going through a door disguised as a wall.

_17750 gp. Wow. And there's probably much, much more staircases, so let's double that...35500 gp. Do scrolls use XP when cast? No, they definitely don't. And if they don't have divine spell-casting buddies...16800 gp to hire a cleric, or 19200 for a Bard. Even a Great Wyrm would go broke eventually. The entire castle could be animated instead, though that would require an absurdly high caster level.  
_

_This world is so broken._

Snape led Aramil into a room that resembled a Necromancer's wet dreams. It was much colder then the Great Hall, and Aramil could see his breath. There were torches lining the wall, causing everything to have flickering, ominous shadows. And floating in jars on the various shelves around the room, were the preserved remains of several animals Aramil knew, and a whole lot he didn't know. Snape flicked his wand, causing several dozen boxes to skitter onto the desks.

"These potion ingredients have gone bad, due to some idiot mixing several fresh batches with old ones at the apothecary. Sort them out, and toss out the old ones-" He flicked his wand again, causing a bin to appear. "-in here." He sat down at his desk and started writing a letter while Aramil got to work.

It was sort of easy, once he got the hang of it. Most of the boxes were just leaves and roots, so it was quite easy to toss them in the bin, ignoring the belching sounds the bin made. After a while, Aramil's mind wandered off and started thinking about Umbridge's CR.

_She's the Senior whatever to the Minister, but it doesn't seem to be determined by magical might, like a Magocracy should be. Let's say she was a average student at Hogwarts, graduated, started working at the Ministry. And they have unlimited spells per day, spells known, and a no error teleport at will. So, with all that, half for non-lethal, I would most likely gain...3999 XP, putting me at level 3, 1 XP away from four, when the spell expires. Hmm..Alter Self will definitely be useful. Feytouched, Pixies, Bog Imps...As for my first level spell, it'll be-_

"Aramil!"

"Hmm?" He realized that he was just staring off into space, having finished his sorting a long time ago. Snape looked a bit vexed. "I _said_ you were free to go. Get out of here." Aramil nodded distractedly, not really paying attention. He got up and walked out in a daze. He wandered the halls for a bit going up stairs and through random passageways he saw, not really going anywhere, but deciding on his spells.

"I could get _Black Bag, _never mind the Evil descriptor. A small bag of weapons could come in handy. But then again, I do already have a masterwork silver dagger... I'll just get _Cheat_ and win every single game of chance I play." He decided. Aramil took a good look around at his surroundings and swore.

He had absolutely no idea where he was.

He was in a long corridor with what looked like an animated tapestry of a very stupid person surrounded by eight trolls, some of which were clubbing him with their...well, clubs. On the other side of the hallway, however, was absolutely nothing, which was unusual for Hogwarts, which had animated portraits everywhere you looked. He tapped hesitantly on the tapestry.

"Um, hello? Can you hear me? I have no idea where I am and I was wondering if you could help..." The tapestry didn't respond. But the person kept on trying to dodge the clubs, unsuccessfully. "Hmm. Don't think this one's intelligent." Dumbledore had told him about the portraits of Hogwarts. Some moved, some talked, some moved _and_ talked, and one particular portrait did nothing but criticize people's fashion sense and hair. Aramil sighed. "Well, I'll just walk in one direction and hope for the best." He turned around to leave, but noticed a huge, glaring issue.

There was a massive wooden door in front of him, conveniently labelled 'PASSAGEWAYS'.

Aramil glared upwards. "Okay, now that was complete fairie dust. I know I make crappy Spot checks regularly, but there is _no way_ I could've missed that. It's the only thing there!"

There was no ominous thunder, or any sign from above.

"Of course, something else could've been the problem..." Aramil's eyes narrowed. _"Detect Magic." _

The spell indicated that the aura on the door was...part of the entire damn castle. "Oh, right. Every last bit of Hogwarts is inherently magical." _Well, that's one spell I'm swapping out. Perhaps Arcane Mark..._

Aramil pushed open the door. The room was filled with a soft, white light which had no source. There were three smaller doors across the small, rectangular room. One was labelled 'BLACK LAKE', another was labelled 'HEADMASTER'S OFFICE', and the third was labelled 'GREAT HALL'.

"Okay, that's surprisingly convenient. Everywhere I could want to go." Aramil pushed through the door, expecting it to lead, through a intricate passageway filled with plot devices and spike-filled traps, to somewhere near the Great Hall. Instead, the door opened up to lead to...the middle of the Great Hall. Twenty feet in the air. Right above the table where everyone was eating lunch. _  
_

_Dammit._

* * *

Dumbledore was still discussing the matter of the Dementors with Fudge when the cat came. "My answer is still no. If Sirius is roaming free, then I and the Hogwarts staff will simply put up our own protective charms."

Fudge was twisting his bowler hat. "Black is extremely dangerous. Are you telling me you don't remember all those Muggles he killed, just to kill Pettigrew? H'll kill anyone he thinks is standing in his way." Dumbledore glanced at the _Daily Prophet, _Black's grim face staring up at him. "And you are sure of this? Who he is coming after?" Fudge nodded. "Absolutely. The Aurors stationed there told me at the inspection that he had been muttering in his sleep. 'He's at Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts'. Even if he isn't coming after Harry, don't you think you owe it to the parents to provide _some_ protection?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Very well. You may send the Dementors. But on absolutely _no_ account, are they allowed inside the grounds at anytime." Fude stood up energetically. "Of course. You won't regret it, Albus."

A shimmering, silver cat walked/flew out of one of the portraits and gracefully landed on the desk between them. It turned to face Dumbledore and spoke in Minervra's voice. _Umbridge has apparated to the Ministry. Awaiting the Minister. _Minervra's Patronus dissipated into a silvery fog. Dumbledore got up from his chair. "Well then, it's almost lunch. Will you be joining us, Cornelius?" Cornelius was already fastening up his cloak.

"No, I think it's best if I get back to the Ministry, have to talk to the Aurors about the Dementors, and Umbridge...too much work." And with a short, awkward movement that could be interpreted as a tilt of the head, Cornelius left his office. Dumbledore approached a suspiciously blank part of the wall and tapped it lightly with his wand three times.

The wall faded away, revealing one of Hogwarts's few Teleporting Doors. Hogwarts was vast, with many twisting halls, making it hard for people to to get from one place to another. The secret passageways and the Room of Requirement helped, but few knew where they always lead, and even fewer knew about the Room. The Doors were an attempt by one of Hogwarts's Headmasters to place doors that allowed students and staff to travel instantly between two key points, cutting down on tardiness.

Sadly enough, when the first one was tested, it immediately blinked out of existence, dropping Gagwilde in the middle of the Pacific ocean. The project was deemed dangerous, the Headmaster retired, and the doors were never seen again, lost somewhere in Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been experimenting with the notes of Gagwilde's project, and with the help of...his 'lucky' wand, he had managed to perfect one Door linking the Entrance Hall with his office, which was only accessible by whoever wielded...his 'lucky' wand. He stepped through, and arrived right beside the door to the Great Hall. He pushed open the doors and slipped inside.

* * *

The sky was a brilliant blue, rays of sunlight illuminating the half-empty staff table. Sitting down at the middle of the table, he pulled out his collection of papers and scraps and started writing down on a half-finished page.

Dumbledore had always been fascinated with Muggle fairy tales, ever since he was a child. He had always been interested about how they reflected tales of creatures in the Wizarding world. So a few years ago, he had collected his fairy books, and his signed copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, _and had begun writing the inspiration for the Muggle tales, and the parallels between them. He was planning to publish a book called _Muggle Fairy Tales And Their Connotations And Inspiration in the Wizarding World,_ mainly for Muggleborn children. When Aramil and him had discussed the former's past, he had been struck with a surge of new inspiration, and had been feverishly writing down dozens of pages in his spare time. _With Aramil's help, I might actually finish this by the end of the year, _he mused. _  
_

Say, where was the boy?

Dumbledore looked around the table. "Has anyone seen Aramil lately?" Snape shrugged. "He sorted out a few boxes of potion ingredients for me right after breakfast. After that, he wandered off somewhere. He seems to have enough common sense to avoid injury. I'm sure he'll turn up somewhere."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

Aramil appeared out of nowhere twenty feet in the air above the table, screaming. He fell down on the table with a heavy _thud_, breaking most of the plates and cracking the table. There was a moment of shocked silence, while everyone was processing what had just happened. Snape's mouth was hanging open.

"Well, at least he turned up..."

* * *

**And another chapter is finished. In other D&D news, I've just discovered the Sidhe Scholar Druid, which is everything I've ever wanted in a character. I'm considering having Aramil becoming a multiclass Sidhe Scholar Druid/Sorcerer. Or, I could just have him change his character sheet to a gestalt, and make the Holy DM Smite From The Heavens non-lethal. Or, I could have him do a rebuild quest a couple times over, changing all the way to SSD. If anyone has any suggestions, I'd be very grateful. **

**Storm out.**


	10. Chapter 10

_Okay, if talking is a free action, then thinking should be free also, _he thought while he fell screaming to his possible death.

What were the rules for fall damage? _Oh yeah, 1d6 points of damage per 10 feet. So if I'm twenty feet in the air...a maximum of 12 damage, putting me into the negatives. And the wizards aren't going to know how to heal me, so...yeah, I could die. How lovely. After 800 years, seeing massive inter-planar wars, the deaths of gods, and I could die falling on a breakfast table on some backwards plane. Time to act.__  
_

"Okay, _Moun-"_

_THUD. _Aramil fell face-first into the table, leaving a crack in the sturdy oak. The plates went flying off, crashing into the walls. He felt a brief stab of pain as a fork..well, stabbed him. All in all, he got...8 points of falling damage. _Oh, that's not so bad. At least I have three hit-points remaining, _he thought through a blinding headache. There was someone talking urgently from what seemed like the other side of the...Great Hall? Yeah, it was called the Great Hall. He felt hands pulling him off the table and onto something fluffy. _Wait...wasn't there something I was supposed to do? Or did I already do it? Hmm...__right, nonlethal damage thingamajig trick. _Through the headache, Aramil managed to blurt out a few painful words. "I-i meant to, do that.." You see, the rules for falling damage are quite simple. The rules clearly state that for every 10 feet fallen, the character takes 1d6 points of damage, regardless of size. However, if the character _deliberately _jumped, the first 1d6 points of damage is converted into nonlethal damage, which was exactly what Aramil was hoping for.

And it worked.

The various cuts and bruises on Aramil vanished, leaving relatively unharmed. The massive headache he obtained from smashing his head into a sturdy oak table also cleared up, leaving him able to think clearly. Now he had two points of damage, which could be easily healed. Unfortunately, his robes were torn to shreds in the fall. He looked up at The Silence and saw what was probably the only opportunity he would ever get to see Dumbledore, truly, completely shocked. "How on earth did you do _that?_" He seemed to be referring to the nonlethal damage trick Aramil had just pulled off.

"Oh, that thing? Well for every 10 feet of falling, a character takes anywhere from between 1 to 6 points of damage. Since that was twenty feet, I ordinarily would have taken 8 points of damage, leaving me at 3 hit-points. But if a person deliberately falls off of something, the first ten feet worth of damage is converted into non-lethal damage. So instead of 8 points of damage, I have two. A bit cheesy, but hey, at lest it worked."

Dumbledore seemed to grasp the concept, but the rest of the teachers looked at him like he was speaking Infernal. He sighed. _These people... _"I can alter reality through my will in certain situations. Observe." He drew out his character sheet and changed his species to 'Silver Dragon'. As it was just a display, it worked.

Aramil instantly turned into a Silver Dragon, the sun turning him into a glittering rainbow of silver too painful too look at. There was only one problem. His age didn't change. And as Aramil was over 800 years old, he turned into an Ancient Silver Dragon.

And what's the size of a Ancient Silver Dragon?

Gargantuan.

He rapidly expanded, crushing the cot he was on. Dumbledore quickly waved his wand and the teachers were teleported- no _apparated-_ to a safe distance. He stopped growing through the size categories and reached Gargantuan. It felt odd to have wings. He stretched them experimentally. It was just like having arms, except he couldn't rain fiery destruction down from the skies. _Wait, I'm a Sorcerer. I have magical powers that people would sacrifice their own mothers for. _The teachers looked like insects at his height. He bent his head down and twisted to look at them.

_"Sorry about that."_ His voice rattled the table and blew the teachers's robes like they were standing in a tornado. _"I didn't expect that to happen." _Professor McGonagall screwed up her eyes. "Umm...could you do something about..that?" She waved an arm at his scales. _"Oh, sorry. Polymorph." _Aramil turned from a Gargantuan Silver Dragon into a Pixie.

"As you can see, I just turned into a Ancient Silver Dragon, and then Polymorphed into a Pixie, another subspecies of Fey." He grabbed his character sheet and fluttered over to the table. "I can do a lot of things besides that. Hey, I just leveled up." He sat down and started updating his character sheet. "Okay. Five more hit-points.._Cheat_ as a first level spell...Item Familiar feat..." Snape managed to speak. "Is there any limit to your...power?"

Aramil put away his sheet. "No, but not without extreme cheese, or cheating, if you will. I could always summon Pa- I mean, the Prince of the Lower Aerial Kingdoms." He said hastily. "If you say his name three times he grants you a wish, if you're not totally evil. " Aramil didn't see the look in Snape's eyes. And why, are you still here, instead of obtaining this so-called limitless power?"

"Hmm..A magic item...oh right, my Haversack counts. In answer to your question Snape, there's always a bigger fish. Someone could cast _Antimagic Ray_, I could encounter a creature completely immune to magic, and of course, the Gods could always kill me before it happens. Not very hard, they can see something that happens seventeen weeks before it even occurs. And saying his name doesn't mean he'll answer. He could just be bored of every kobold that says his name three times and snuff me out."

The teachers looked _very _confused. "I think...I'll just go to my office now." Professor McGonagall walked off gingerly with a hand massaging her temple, as if she had a headache. Professor Flitwick looked at the chaotic mess of the Staff table. "I guess breakfast is cancelled. No matter, I didn't learn the art of Transmutation for nothing. I think I'll have a nice plate of truffles..." Flitwick wandered off, deep in thought. Hagrid went off to go feed the school's apparent Hippogriff herd, and Sprout supposedly had a plant-eating plant she had to check on.

Snape looked at him as if he was scanning Aramil's mind. After a few seconds, Aramil thought he saw a hint of triumph in his eyes. Snape smiled unpleasantly and walked off swiftly. _Well, I'm sure that was nothing and won't have any consequences related to me whatsoever. _Dumbledore and Aramil were the last two people in the Great Hall.

Dumbledore tapped a corner of the table with his wand, and everything flew back together, plates included. "Well, then. Might I take this opportunity to ask how you crashed into the table?"

Aramil shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not that sure myself. After helping out Snape, I just wandered for a bit, not caring where I went. I ended up lost in a blank corridor with no idea where to go. The only thing there was this animated tapestry of trolls in skirts, which was odd. I tried asking it for directions, but it wasn't one of those talking ones. So get this: when I turned around-"

"There was a large, wooden door, when there was clearly nothing there before?" Dumbledore had a twinkle in his eyes. Aramil was suspicious. "Did you just read my mind?" "Of course not. That would be extremely rude." So they did have mind-reading abilities over here. "I have been in your situation before, when I was a student. You have just used the Room of Requirement."

Aramil was confused. "The what?"_  
_

"The Room of Requirement. It is a room on the seventh floor that appears to anyone who needs it. Many students in the past have stumbled across it, whether they needed it as a broom cupboard to hide in, a study room, or a storage room to hide seven bottles of Firewhisky." "So what you're saying is," Aramil ventured, "Is if I was a say, swimmer who need to practice for a race-"

Dumbledore nodded. "Then the Room would instantly have a enormous swimming pool, with perhaps towels and a shower off to the side."

_Keep it together Aramil...bursting into evil laughter won't help, no matter how good it might feel. _"Uh... so does the room have any limits?" _Please say no, please say no, please say no..._

He shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of. It could be somewhat self-aware, reading the seeker's mind to see what thy desire and then using the inherent magical power that resides in Hogwarts to make it reality. If that is the case, then there is probably no limit to the room's power." _YES!__ Unlimited magic items, here I come. _

Aramil nodded to Dumbledore. "Thank you for the clarification." He walked out of the Hall, heading for the Room of Requirement. Through his empathetic link, he could tell Orion was up. _Now let's see if I can do this. _He was still technically an Ancient Silver Dragon, albeit a Polymorphed one.

_"Sending. _Oi, Orion. Get my Haversack and meet me on the seventh floor of Hogwarts with it." _Sixteen words. _"I've found something that could potentially benefit us both." _Exactly twenty-five. _The spell winked out of existence. "Okay, Step One is done. Now on to the other things..."

* * *

Aramil exited the Room of Requirement in his repaired robes. His newly acquired magic item, a spear with intricately drawn runes along its length, was being twirled in his dexterous hands. When Orion had brought him his backpack to just outside the room, he made it his item familiar, entered the room as a rebuild dungeon, and rebuilt himself as a gestalt Sorcerer/Warlock, gaining his Death Spike spear out of it. Shaking his time-skip mandated thoughts out of his head, he sheathed his spear and pulled out his character sheet, writing down his new spells. He stopped when he noticed he was alone.

He glanced back into the room. "Oi, you coming or not?" A crow flew out of the Room, landing on Aramil's shoulder. The doors swung shut silently, melding into the stone removing all traces of a door. While he was in the Room of Requirement, he had decided to switch out Orion. A +3 bonus to Sleight of Hand checks wasn't really useful. So he had traded him in for a crow familiar, naming her Lilith. He found it somewhat appropriate.

"Okay. Damage Reduction, Eldritch Blast, Detect Magic, at will..that's pretty much useless in the castle...Devil's Sight...Darkness...Baleful Utterance...and that's it. Surprising that I got away from this. It seems too easy, Lilith." Lilith extended a leg and tapped a line he hadn't noticed before. "Huh? Unable to enter a home without invitation...get lost at crossroads...can't enter sacred ground...can't cross running water...must count individual grains of salt spilled before him...and can't tell a lie. So I'm forced to observe supernatural strictures. The last one's going to wreck havoc with my Bluff Skill, but I think I'll manage."

He put away the sheet and continued on his way, testing out his new abilities. "Hmm. This gestalt class could be quite fun..."

* * *

_Elsewhere in the castle..._

Snape was furiously pacing the length of his classroom, muttering to himself. The boy had been telling the truth about this 'Prince', he had seen that in his mind. And Snape had also wrestled a very important name from Aramil's mind. _Pazuzu._ Should he say it? There was a massive amount of possible consequences. He could be killed, or worse if 'Pazuzu' did not wish to be summoned. Dumbledore could find out, and banish him from Hogwarts. Even the boy might find out and inform the other teachers.

But to see her again...

Snape stopped. He had made up his mind. "Pazuzu, Pazuzu-" Snape gulped. "Pazuzu." He drew his wand and nervously waited.

Nothing happened. The boy had been tricked. Snape sighed, both relieved, and disappointed. Relieved, that he wasn't summoning a demon and disappointed, he wouldn't see Lily again. Snape turned around to leave. Wha he saw made him go cold._  
_

It _had _worked.

A tall man in a loincloth was leaning against the wall, one hand on a sword that was strangely reminiscent of a feather. As he took in his appearance, Snape could clearly tell Pazuzu was not a man at all. He had four massive blood-red wings sprouting from his back that were shining with oil and had smoke rising from them. He had a beak like a hawk's, filled with a forest of needle-like teeth. Pazuzu looked at him with glowing red eyes.

"Why hello there, Severus," He said as if he had known him all his life, "Shall we make a deal?"

* * *

**And here's the latest chapter. Things are starting to get screwed up, plots are being revealed. Only one more chapter until the school year starts, and everything goes to hell. **


	11. Chapter 11

"Shall we make a deal?"

Snape took a deep breath. _Rule One: Never show weakness. _"So, you are Pazuzu. I confess, I didn't expect you to answer me." Pazuzu shrugged, causing a few feathers to fall to the ground. "I wasn't going to, at first. I had better things to do. Bu when I looked into your tiny mortal mind, I saw that this Material Plane was a perfect place for a Obyrith like me. Foolish, power-hungry mortals abound with much ambition and little scruples." He glanced over at the corner and tilted his head, like he was examining something there. "Interesting..." He turned back to Snape. "So, what is your wish?" "What's the point? You already know what I want." The obyrith nodded. "True. But I want to hear you say it."

Snape sighed and sat down at his desk. Rummaging through his drawers, he pulled out a moving photo of a red-haired woman laughing with a green-eyed man who was probably her husband. He pointed a finger at the girl. "Lily Evans. She died twelve years ago, killed by the Dark Lord." Pazuzu sighed. "If I had a copper piece for every sorcerer who called themselves that...So you want me to resurrect her, bring her back from the dead." "You can?" Pazuzu laughed. It was not a very pleasant sound. It sounded like the screech of some sort of bird of prey.

"Of course I can. I can grant one wish to any mortal brave or foolhardy enough to summon me. Which one are you?" Snape tightened his jaw. "Then do it." Pazuzu bowed mockingly. "Why of course, my 'Prince'. It will take two days, unless you have a part of her? A lock of her hair will suffice." Snape searched through his desk. "Umm...uh..let's see...here!" He held out a fragment of still-bright red hair. As their fingers brushed, he felt an urge to run away as fast as possible from the Obyrith. "Hmm...a bit frayed, but it shall do." He looked up at Snape. "Are you sure about this? The last thing she will remember is dying. The thirteen years will seem like nothing to her." Snape nodded eagerly. "Yes, absolutely." "Very well then."

The lock of hair seemed to float away from him, levitating above the desk. The hair grew longer and more vibrant. It rapidly expanded, a scalp growing from the base of the hair, and then a forehead, and then Lily's complete head. Snap backed away as the head grew a neck and shoulders, and then a complete body. Lily Evans, completely nude, fell over onto the floor. Pazuzu nudged her arm with his foot, conjuring robes identical to Snape's onto her.

"She'll be groggy and confused when she wakes up. What will you tell her?" Snape rushed over, lifting her into a seat. "Um, I think...the truth, I guess." A thought struck him and he turned to Pazuzu. "What are you getting out of this?" "Hmm?" Pazuzu was picking his teeth with the razor-sharp shaft of one of his feathers, trying to look innocent and failing miserably. "I mean, why are you doing this for me? You're not getting any benefit from her living, as far as I know."

"True. In return for bringing your love back to life, I ask only one simple thing." Snape narrowed his eyes. "...Yes?" "A favor. To be determined at a later date and collectible at anytime." Snape hesitated. _This is too open-ended...It's definitely a trick. _

"Of course, if you're not pleased with those terms, I could always take Lily back..." "No!" He swallowed hastily, "I mean, I'm satisfied with those terms." He grinned. "Of course you are."

Lily stirred, her eyes starting to flutter.

He glanced over. "And that's my cue to leave." He took a deep breath, as if he wasn't inhaling air but something else. "A world without gods or heroes, and where wizards live in fear of common-folk. I could pull thousands upon thousands down to the Abyss, and it's all thanks to you. If you ever end up in the Abyss, swing by the first layer. I could always use a person like you in Pazunia."

And with the sound of flapping wings Pazuzu vanished, leaving nothing behind but a few blood-red feathers.

* * *

Snape's eyes were completely fixated on Lily. In a few moments, he would finally talk to Lily. _Hmm. She would be extremely disorientated after an ordeal like this.. _Snape hurried to the backroom. He always kept a small assortment of potions in there, ready for use at a moment's notice. _That last batch of the potion should still have remained drinkable..._

As Snape was out of the room, and Lily was still half-unconscious, neither of them noticed the classroom door silently open and then close, as if something passed through.

The invisible presence swept down the hall, waking a few portraits who dismissed it as Peeves. The air in a part of the dungeons that hadn't been entered in centuries was filled with dust as The Presence walked down to a door that was barely distinguishable from the dusty stone surrounding it. The door swung open as silently as a well-oiled door. The large, circular room beyond was probably a classroom centuries ago, before they retired it for more accessible ones. On the far wall of the classroom was a thin crack that took up the entire width of the wall. As The Presence grew nearer, the entire room shuddered imperceptibly. The crack expanded to show most of a blood-shot, unblinking eye that could clearly see it. The Presence halted, and bowed. The Presence became visible, revealing a black-robed figure with transparent tentacles extending from under the hood.

"My Lord," It said in a voice as smooth as silk, "I have encountered an unforeseen delay. It seems that...it seems that a Demon Lord has been summoned to this plane."

_"WHAT?!" _The Presence winced in pain as pure, unadulterated hatred battered at his mind. Luckily, he had safeguards designed specifically to protect him from the worst of his...patron's mind.

_"Those spineless Tanar'ri?! Skulking around on the Lower Planes, mindlessly fighting among themselves..at least the Baatezu have order." _The Presence snorted softly. "And you claim to have order, My Lord?" The enitre room shook. The eye blinked slowly. _"Do not think, that because of your unique situation, you are irreplaceable. Somewhat important perhaps, but entirely replaceable. I have many loyal servants, eager to __serve. You are merely one among many._

The Prescense bowed. "Of course, My Lord. I apologize. I forgot myself. You are most generous in choosing me, My Lord." The eye narrowed, but it seemed pleased for the moment. _"Now. Which demon lord? The Faceless Lord? He is a demon lord, but he is a weak one, easily crushed."_

The Prescence hesitated. "Uh...Pazuzu, My Lord."

The room turned colder. _"That infernal bargainer?! Hmm..." _The Eye seemed to be considered something. The Presence bowed his head, prepared to wait without complaint. Through the crack, it could see a writhing mass of multicoloured tentacles, and many ravenous mouths that were fighting among each other for a scrap of what looked like...something that was still shrieking.

_"I have made a decision." _The Presence looked up. "Yes, My Lord?" The mouths ripped the thing to shreds and devoured the last bit of it. _"Pazuzu is a thing of chaos, like all demons. He is easily, how do you say, taken care of. I shall tend to him later. And what of the Fey Prince?"  
_

"He is entirely unaware, both of our meddling and the summoning of Pazuzu. He seems to be content as a servant for now, but soon he will grow curious, and he will find us. The Abyssal Prince is also a wild card. We cannot tell what he might do."

_"Bah. He is a pact-maker. He'll be distracted by a demon-free world and make as many pacts as he can. And the Fey is a PC. He'll find some lich to slay, or a dungeon to explore. When the arrangements are complete, he shall die. Until then, make sure he stays alive, but weak." _The Presence bowed deeply. "Of course, My Lord. It will be done."

The crack began to close. _"Have everything ready by The Melting. If it goes well, you shall be richly rewarded. If not..." _It left the threat hanging in the air as the gap sealed, leaving only a thin line in the wall again.

* * *

_September 1st..._

"Are you sure that's safe?"

"Of course it is, I'm still here. Pass me my cloak, will you? Thanks."

"It just doesn't seem safe. You've already meddled with your character sheet before-"

"Its fine. I've done it before, haven't I?" He fastened his Cloak of Charisma. "There. How do I look?" Myra crossed her arms and sighed. "As dashing as ever, but we're not talking about that right now. You're fiddling with your character sheet too much, and I don't want you to be erased from existence. I'd be turned into a _very _minor NPC."

He waved a hand. "Pssh. I wasn't erased when I added the Spark Template, or the Half-Fey, was I? Besides, what's wrong with a Shadowcaster?" Looking over his character sheet, Aramil had decided to change into a gestalt Sorcerer5/Wild Soul2/ Shadowcaster 7. Using the XP gainer from his Item Familiar, he had increased his character level to seven, and increased all future XP rewards by...210 percent.

Myra bit her lip. "Has anyone ever told you that you're very..." She seemed to be searching for a word.

"Flighty?" Aramil suggested. He flapped his wings for added effect. "Well, that usually goes along with being one of the Fair Folk." He pulled out his character to make sure it was up to date. "Okay...Still Mystery instead of Spell Hand, and we're good." He glanced out the window he had installed. The sky was getting dark quickly, and he could see a fleet of boats crossing the lake. "The first years are already crossing the lake. I should hurry." Depositing his spear in his Handy Haversack, he stowed it under his bed. "So what are you going to do? If you're staying here, lock the door behind you."

Myra met him at the door. "Actually, I have things to do. My oldest sister needs my help with building a wall around the house. So, I'll probably see you tomorrow. Good luck." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and strode off barefoot through the grass. He watched her for a few seconds, then turned to Lilith. "And you?"

Lilith gave what was probably the bird equivalent of a shrug. "Dunno. I think I'll stay here. Maybe read that book on magic Dumbledore gave you." "Suit yourself." He felt exposed without his spear on his back, but Dumbledore would probably not approve of him bringing a weapon, even though wands were a thousand times more dangerous, and everyone had one. But still, you don't interfere with epic wizards. Or whatever the equivalent was on this plane. _Speaking of planes, maybe this lies parallel to the Material Plane. After all, you're 75 percent likely to end up on a parallel plane when plane-shifting randomly. Well, that solves that._

He took one last look around the cabin. Having everything he needed, he stepped outside.

* * *

The night air was cold on his wings. Closing the door which he had enchanted with an _Arcane Lock_ spell (which he had quickly traded out for _Malevolent Miasma_), he set off across the grounds. Aramil desperately wanted to fly, but it was only a short walk. _  
_

_Besides, if I got in the air, I'd never come down._

He climbed up the steps to Hogwarts and pushed open the door. The small chamber off to the side was where the first years would go, according to Professor McGonagall. Aramil heard the door open again, and saw Professor Flitwick entering the Hall, leading the first-years.

"Ah! Hello there, Aramil. Just about to go in?"

"Yup. I take it these are the first-years?" He looked them over. Most of them were staring at his wings in a sort of daze, but a few looked like they had been recently crying. Aramil crouched down next to Flitwick. "Did something happen? They look like they've been crying."

Flitwick nodded solemnly. "Apparently, the Ministry decided to send the Dementors to search the train, without any type of supervision whatsoever. Dumbledore was furious when he heard. Nobody was Kissed, thank god, but it's shaken up a fair number of the students."

"Hmm. I should go now." He got back up. "I'll see you at the Feast, Flitwick." He nodded, leading the students into the small antechamber. Aramil walked over to the doors. He stopped, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

* * *

**Sorry about the late chapter. I've been busy lately, and the laptop's in the shop. I'll update as soon as I can. Might not get any work done on Saturday, mainly because of Doctor Who. Until next time.**


	12. Chapter 12

Aramil walked into the room. At first, no one noticed him, and then one girl who was telling her friend a story nearby glanced over, and froze.. She nudged her friend, who began talking to everyone else. In about five seconds, everyone in the Great Hall was staring at him. _How rude__. Haven't they ever seen someone with 31 Charisma and a giant pair of butterfly wings before?_

Aramil kept to the wall, walking up to the staff table. He glanced at the tables as he passed by. Just about everyone was staring at him. It was starting to make him uncomfortable. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of walking, he reached the staff table, sitting down in his specially made chair next to Dumbledore. Everyone continued staring for a few more seconds, and then the Hall bursted into furious whispers.

"I almost thought you weren't coming, Aramil." Dumbledore's tone was light, and he seemed perfectly at ease, but his eyes were scanning the Great Hall, as if he was looking for someone.

Aramil looked over the Great Hall. "Sorry. I was, um, tied up." The doors opened again, with Flitwick leading the First-years in. He placed the Sorting Hat on a stool in the middle of the Hall, and stepped back. Aramil leaned forward. Dumbledore had told him it sorted the students, but not _how_. An opening near the brim appeared, and-

It started singing.

_Okay. A singing hat. That's not so weird. _Everyone else reacted as if it was a perfectly normal occurrence, except for some of the first-years, who were probably still in shock from the Dementors, and then seeing a ridiculously good-looking Faerie boy with butterfly wings just casually walk by.

The Hat finished its song, and somehow bowed to each of the four tables, to great applause. When the Hat became still again, Flitwick pulled out a scroll. He started calling up students one by one, to sit on the stool and try on the Hat. The Hat seemed to be looking through their minds, and calling out the house best suited for them.

"So, I heard about the Dementors on the train." Dumbledore's smile slipped. "Ah, that. Cornelius sent me an owl about an hour ago. Luckily. Professor Lupin was on board, or the situation could've been dire." Aramil clapped politely as an Astoria Greengrass became a Slytherin. "I'm surprised he still has his job, after something like that. The parents would be furious." He had a small smile. "They most certainly would. However, they have not heard yet. I'm sure that by tomorrow morning, it will be on the front page of the _Daily Prophet." _

At last, Kevin Wright was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor Flitwick carried the Sorting Hat and the stool out of the Hall. Aramil noticed two students sneaking into the Great Hall, accompanied by Professor McGonagall. The messy, black-haired boy and the bushy brown-haired girl scurried quitely to the Gryffindor table, and Professor McGonagall made her way to her seat beside Aramil. Curiously enough, he saw a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on the boy's head. He was about to question McGonagall about it, when Dumbledore stood up to speak.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! And to our first-years, welcome to your first year at Hogwarts. I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is quite serious, I think it is best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast..." Dumbledore's face turned serious. "As you will be aware after their unorthodox search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business. They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission."

"Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises-or even Invisibility Cloaks." _What, creatures with continuous True Seeing and obscenely high Spot modifiers? Perhaps if I could talk to them...I could have an army of soul-sucking fiends! Hold in the evil laughter Aramil, you'll have plenty of time to do that later..._

"It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors." He paused to look around the Hall, his face grave. "On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year."

There was only one new face at the table, a wizard in extremely shabby robes. Unless Aramil was made a teacher without his knowledge, Dumbledore had finally gone senile and was thinking of a different year.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was some scattered applause, with the teachers clapping quite enthusiastically. Snape, however, seemed distracted. He was impatiently tapping his foot, s if he had some place to go. _Hmm...I could burn a second level slot to cast Detect Thoughts. But that would be a violation of his privacy. I shouldn't do something like that._

Aramil was almost laughing as he casted _Detect Thoughts. _

_Hmm. That's strange. _Aramil had encountered what seemed to be a mental brick wall. _So they do have Mind Blank here. Oh well. _Aramil tuned back in to what Dumbleore was saying.

"-who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties." There was much more applause then there was for Professor Lupin. He noticed Hagrid was the only one not clapping. _Oh, he must have the new job. _Aramil clapped a few times before the applause died down.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance. Let the feast begin!"

Aramil nudged McGonagall. "Who was that?" She swallowed a mouthful. "I beg your pardon?" He waved a hand over at the Gryffindor table. "That black-haired boy. The one with the lightning bolt scar on his forehead." Professor MGonagall looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled. "I almost forgot where you came from." Over the summer, on the advice of Dumbledore, he had told Hagrid and the four Heads of Houses where he came from. They hadn't believed them at first, but he had reminded them how he turned into a Silver Dragon through altering reality.

"That's Harry Potter. A Dark Wizard tried to kill him when he was a baby with the unstoppable Killing Curse, but it somehow rebounded and destroyed the wizard. It left the scar you mentioned."

Aramil did his best to wipe all but a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Really? How interesting." He looked over at the boy, who was laughing at some joke that had just been said. "I'll have to introduce myself..."

* * *

After the feast had ended, Aramil had quickly gotten to his feet. Seeing as he only needed one meal a week, he was feeling much less bloated then the others who had participated in the feast. Keenly aware of the eyes watching him, he made his way to the Gryffindor table. Harry, the brown-haired girl, and a rather tall red-haired boy were just getting up. Aramil walked up to him.

"Hello. You must be Harry Potter." His brown-haired friend looked awestruck, while the red-haired boy looked at him with suspicion. Harry blinked in surprise from the weird experience of what seemed to be a faerie boy with wings walk up to him. "Um, yeah." He awkwardly stuck out a hand to shake. Aramil took it.

"I'm Aramil, pleased to meet you." He withdrew his hand. "So, I heard you managed to survive the Killing Curse when you were a baby..." Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I can't really remember how it happened." Aramil tilted his head. "Really? Not at all?" Harry nodded. "Yeah. There was a flash of green light, that's all I remember."

"Hmm..disappointing. Well, it was nice talking to you." Aramil turned to leave, the small crowd that had gathered parting before him. _Well, that was a complete waste of time. Thought there might be a campaign start in that. Instead, all it did was draw even more attention to me. Well, maybe that isn't so bad. An air of mystery can always help with a new campaign._

Aramil pushed open the doors and walked into the night. Though someone might find it had to navigate without a light source, Aramil could see perfectly fine, thanks to his Darkvision. There was no one around, so Aramil backed up a bit, had a running start, and took off. Aramil laughed as he dived through the air. _Flying is the best. Why do Dragons ever stop flying? Oh right, they only have about 10 dexterity, _he mused as he hovered in midair. "Ah, I love having perfect maneuverability." He could see the forest expanding for miles, and all of Hogwarts. Aramil noticed a light directly below him. _Oh, great. _Aramil descended to see who had cut his flight short. It was Hagrid, holding a lantern and looking astonished.

"Yeh can fly?" Aramil touched down onto the ground. "Yes. What, did you think these wings were for show? That lantern is horribly inefficient, by the way. But I digress. What did you want to say?" _Wow, I'm a chatterbox. _"Uh...need to ask you somethin'." Aramil shrugged. "Okay. Go for it." Hagrid lowered his voice to a whisper, even though they were the only ones there. "Well..it's me first class tomorrow, and I was wonderin'...could you help me out?"

Aramil blinked. From his secrecy, he thought Hagrid wanted him to get rid of a body, or steel a book full of unspeakable black necromantic rituals to help him out. _Not that it matters. A job is a job, after all, as long as I get paid. _"Really? That's all? Okay, I'll help out."

Hagrid looked hugely relieved. "Oh, thanks! My first lesson's right after lunch, just on the edges o' the forest. I'll see you there, then." He turned to leave, but Aramil reached up tapped him on the shoulder to stop him. "Hold on." Hagrid glanced back. "Somethin' wrong?" He pointed at the lantern Hagrid was carrying. "May I?" "Don't know what use it'll be, but here, take it." The lantern was probably as tall as his knee, but he managed to hold onto it as he placed it on the ground. "Let's see..." He found the hatch on the top and opened it up. He took out the still-burning candle and doused it on the wet grass. Though he wasn't looking at him, Aramil could feel Hagrid's puzzlement.

"And...here we go." Using his _Liquid Night _shadow fundamental uses for the day, he filled three-quarters of the lantern with liquid night, which glowed red with the brightness of a candle.

"There." He stood up and gave it back to Hagrid. Hagrid looked at it like it dropped from the sky. "What the..?" He shook the lantern. "What'd you put in it?" "Hmm...It's sort of hard to explain..." _Wait, no it isn't. _"Liquefied night, turned into ink by the use of a shadow fundamental."

He could tell that Hagrid didn't understand any of it. Aramil sighed. "You know what, I'm just going to say magic. Anyway, it's the same light as a candle, doesn't need air, and will never go out, even after a month. Well, unless you get water on it. Then it's useless. But still, cheaper then a candle." Hagrid examined it. "Huh. Well, thanks again."

Aramil watched Hagrid trudge off into the darkness, surrounded by a blood-red nimbus of light. "Maybe I should've made it yellow instead. Nah, what's the worse that could happen?" He walked down to his cabin, and was about to open the door when he noticed the dog.

It was a fairly large dog, perhaps Medium. It was very thin and bedraggled, and looked like it had been on its own for weeks. As he approached, it lifted up his head and growled menacingly at him.

"Wow, I'm terrified." Aramil sat on his haunches and examined the beast. It looked like a perfectly normal dog in appearance, but its eyes seemed to indicate it was more intelligent then it seemed. _Well, that's not so odd. After all, animals can gain intelligence increasing templates. _

"You seem tired." The dog got up, and padded away. _Well that was awfully rude of it. _Aramil got up. "Fine then, you can sty out in the cold, if that is what you wish." Aramil entered his cabin, leaving the door wide open. Lilith was resting on his bed, getting up occasionally to flip the page with a leg. As he was within one mile, she knew what he was planning. He lied down on the bed next to Lilith, flipping the pages for her and reading along with her.

Neither of them spoke._  
_

After about fifteen minutes, the dog walked in with what Aramil would describe as a hopeful, cautious walk. Aramil glanced up as it entered, but otherwise remained silent. It padded over to a corner of the cabin, curling up with its back to him. _Hmph. _He pointed a hand at the door and watched as the shadows slammed it shut. _Ah, Umbral Hand. So much more useful then Mage Hand. But then again, I should keep it under wraps._

Lilith turned her head to stare at him. "Why in the Nine Hells would you do something like that? You have _Shadow Evocation, Clinging Darkness, Black Fire..._There's absolutely no reason whatsoever to not use them. Why would you do such a thing?"_  
_

Aramil glanced up at the dog. He (it seemed like it was a male) looked like it was asleep, but Aramil kept his voice low. "Well, it mainly has to do with Balor-Oh wit, you don't knnow about that. Well before you came along and about a day after I was transported here, I found a village called Hogsmeade. I had no idea if they were a group of Fey-hunting Elder Evils worshipers or not, so I used _Silent Image _to assume an identity of a tall, black-robed stranger with hands like a corpse's clutching a staff carved in enigmatic runes taller then he was, with glowing red eyes that danced like flames glaring beneath the hood, and with a voice as deep as the Abyss itself, who called himself Balor."

"At least you were subtle about it." Lilith snidely remarked.

Aramil chose to ignore the remark. "Well anyways, an alternate evil identity might come in handy sometime down the road, so I was thinking I might restrict these to Balor only. Because if I cover someone in black flames that seem to come from the shadows, and then a few days later Balor does that, someone might put two and two together, and suspect me. And to be honest, summoning shadows to kill someone might be a tad too evil for some people's tastes. I'll just stick to Sorcerer spells."

Lilith seemed to be digesting the information. "I see...you're not going to have enough spells known, if you only use one side of your gestalt, though. And with the lost caster level from Wild Soul...You'll be two levels behind a wizard in spell-casting progression. Why'd you even take Wild Soul?" He shrugged. "It seemed alright. And besides, I liked the flavor." Lilith seemed to be shaking her head in shame.

"No. Never go for something just because you like how it looks. With two feats, you could be an Incan-"

"Not a chance. _Alter Self." _

Lilith instantly turned into a small, furry animal with a star-shaped nose, that was squeaking in panic. "What the-why'd you turn me into a mole?!"

"A Brain mole, to be precise. But to answer your question, it''s because I don't like Incantatrixes. Seriously, everyone always suggests that, and that's why there's an entire empire that's banned all forms of arcane magic, including Bards. And then the capital was the target of a Locate City bomb and everyone was turned into Wights, but that's not the point. Any other suggestions?"

Lilith was currently saying a list of things that would make even Demogorgon blush.

"Tut-tut. Language, Lilith. But you're right, I could've taken better things. I mean there's Heartwarder. Two good saves, Charisma increases, charisma skill check bonuses...only problem is, I'd have to rewrite my character sheet. And I'm likely to get my head bit off by the Tarrasque if I edit my sheet again. One more time couldn't hurt..." He pulled out his character sheet to start editing it, only to have it slip out of his hands like a _Grease _spell. "What the Hells?" He tried to grab it again. The same thing happened again, with his sheet floating to the other side of the cabin.

"Well, I guess that's the DM's way of saying: 'Try it and die'." Aramil dismissed the spell on Lilith as the sheet went to whatever pocket dimension it was always in. Judging by the feelings he was getting through his empathetic link, Lilith was _not_ pleased. "Okay, I'm really sorry that I turned you into a Brain Mole, I lost my temper, can you ever forgive me?" He blurted it all out before the crow could say anything.

Lilith seemed confused. "Um. Alright, just don't do that again..." She fluttered over to her nest/bed to allow Aramil to get changed. Aramil dropped his robes on the floor next to his bed. _Well, that worked out surprisingly well. _With his various Diplomacy bonuses and skill ranks, he had a modifier of +38, so he could automatically turn a Hostile person Friendly, or turn someone Helpful to a Fanatic with a roll of twelve. He turned off the lights and drifted off to sleep...

"Hey!"

...Only to be woken up again by an indignant crow.

* * *

**Sorry about the long posting delay everyone! I've been busy lately as a friend came over, the laptop broke, and...I finally got around to watching Doctor Who: Deep Breath.**

**Wow. Just wow. It blew all my expectations out of the water completely. Capaldi was absolutely fantastic. And for all you Whovians who haven't seen it yet, there is a _massive _surprise at the end that I never saw coming.**

**Until next time, everyone.**


	13. Chapter 13

After the feast, Snape did not head off to his rooms as the other teachers did, but walked towards the doors along the wall. Thankfully everyone was still focused on Aramil, so he managed to make it there unmolested. Once outside, he waved his wand and a black cloak formed around him. He began swiftly walking towards the entrance. The Dementors floated towards him, but he kept them at bay with the Patronus charm.

Snape observed the silver doe trot around him protectively. It had been years since he had used a Patronus. And even then, he had only used the incorporeal version to deliver messages. It was weak, barely capable of pushing back a Dementor. But now, twelve years later, the doe lit up the night like a blazing sun. He dismissed it when he was out of range of the dementors. _1..2..3. _He twirled on the spot into nothingness.

* * *

Snape appeared on the corner of Spinner's End. It was deathly quiet, with several broken street lamps, and a thin layer of trash on the roads. The few inhabited houses looked no different then the houses with boarded up windows and broken down doors. There was nobody out on the streets, as everyone had too much sense to be caught outside at night on Spinner's End.

The irony was not lost on Snape.

Snape walked down the street to a small, two-story house at the end of the street that was indistinguishable from the other houses, aside from its slightly cleaner look. Tapping his wand in three precise spots on the wall, there was the sound of bolts and chains magically unlocking themselves. The door opened with a creak and he stepped inside.

* * *

Snape blinked in surprise. His normally dusty, cluttered, jail cell-like sitting room looked completely different. The books, which he had carefully sorted by name, author, and area of magic covered was all jumbled up like someone hd read some of the books and didn't bother to put them back in their original places. The table was no longer covered in a layer of dust, and the miscellaneous potions and other magical components were arranged neatly, probably out of boredom than any distaste for general uncleanliness. Lily was reading the _Daily Prophet _when he came in.

Her eyes glanced up over the paper, then returned to whichever article she was reading. _Hmm. She seems to have calmed down. _When she had first woken up and learnt the truth, she had yelled and threw things-mainly his potions- at him until she had broken down crying. She had accompanied him to his house, but she refused to talk to him.

Snape sat down on a chair opposite her. She lifted the newspaper higher.

"The Sorting was tonight."

Lily continued ignoring him.

He sighed. "Your friend, Remus Lupin, is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." Lily peeked over the newspaper with a hint of curiosity."Really? Dumbledore gave him the job?" Snape nodded mutely. "That's nice of him. But what about his..." "Lycanthropy?" Lily nodded, apparently forgetting who she was talking to. "Yeah. What if he gets out of control and attacks someone?" She winced. "Oh, sorry Sev-I mean, Severus."

Snape ignored the use of his childhood nickname. "In the 1980s, a wizard by the name of Damocles Belby invented an immensely potion that allows a wizard to keep a lucid mind during the transformation. The Headmaster has tasked me with brewing the potion for Remus every full moon." Lily's voice was remarkably calm. "Well, don't mess up." She returned to her newspaper.

Snape still hadn't told her how he managed to resurrect her, saying he had gone out to buy some hard to find potion ingredients, and he had returned to find her lying on the floor. It was a horribly transparent lie, and he could tell Lily didn't believe him at all, but she didn't push him on it. _Sooner or later, Dumbledore's going to find out. _And if Lucius somehow heard about the mother of the Dark Lord's killer...he needed a way to fix this. Snape felt the beginning of a headache coming on. "I'm going to have to go back to Hogwarts now. You're sure you're still not hungry?" That was another strange thing. Since she had been resurrected, she had no need to eat whatsoever.

Lily shrugged. "Well now that you mention it, I do feel a bit peckish...Strange, I was feeling fine until a few minutes ago." Snape carefully waved his wand, transfiguring the moisture in the air into a platter filled with fruit. "Is this enough? I could make more."Lily put aside her newspaper, looking briefly impressed before she settled back into her blank mask of impassiveness. "Um, no. This will do." Snape nodded and got up. "Well, I'll be going now." Lily nodded, and started on an apple.

Snape locked the door behind him. He stood with a hand on the door for a moment. It seemed like Lily's attitude towards him had mellowed. _She's still not speaking with me, but, one step at a time._ He apparated to Hogsmeade with barely a whisper.

* * *

"Miss Brown, if you could please take your eyes off Aramil again..."

Aramil glanced up as a blond-haired Gryffindor turned a brilliant shade of red under McGonagall's steely gaze. _She could scare a Devourer to life, if it didn't run away first. _He was starting to like her. "Now, if we can get back to the subject on hand..." Aramil returned his eyes to what McGonagall needed 'help' with. He was making copies of a quiz McGonagall had written for seventh-years, a task that was easily taken care of with the tap of a wand. Aramil didn't mind. It was quite simple when he settled into the rhythm of it, and learning about new forms of magic was always a plus.

Aramil looked up as he took a break from writing. The blonde girl was still looking at him out of the corner of her eye. Aramil winked at her while McGonagall was searching through a folder for an animagus request form to show to the class. She did her best to hold in a fit of giggles, and failed miserably. _Ah, mortals. With a smile, a few kind words, and a well-made Diplomacy check, they're like clay in a Fey's hands. _Professor McGonagall looked up at the sound with a severe frown.

"Miss Brown, I'm going to have to-"

Unfortunately, Aramil didn't hear the rest of her sentence, as that was the point when the window exploded.

* * *

Aramil luckily made the reflex save, and managed to dodge it with minimal damage. Somehow, the students did too. Every single student, whether they were sitting right by the windows or on the other side of the classroom, miraculously managed to have none of the glass land anywhere near them. Professor McGongall had a few cuts on her hands and a tear or two in her robes, but seemed fine, except for the sudden shock. "Is everyone alright? What in the world just happened just happened?" As if to answer her question, a thin, black-robed figure leaped through the shattered remains of the window and landed right in front of Aramil. The creature was gray and hairless, with extremely sharp claws as hands. It had blank white eyes, as if it was blind, but it was clearly looking around the room. Oh, and it also had four writhing tentacles coming out of where its mouth would be.

Aramil was facing a goddamn Mind Flayer.

_Dammit. _Aramil immediately got up, drawing the Illithid's attention. "I presume it's me you're looking for?" Aramil did his best to block out the collective noise of thirty students screaming and running for the door. He needed to focus. _Why the hells would a Mind Flayer be here? _The monster spoke in Common remarkably well, if a bit crude."You are Aramil?" "Yes, now what do you want? I'm a very busy Fey. Beholders to kill, Gods to enslave, that sort of thing." Despite Aramil's Intimidate modifier, his attempt still failed. The Mind Flayer pulled out a dagger. "Time to die."

* * *

Aramil barely dodged the Mind Flayer's first lunge, which came dangerously close. _That's weird, they have a listed dexterity of fourteen. I guess a few ability scores have been shuffled around. "Acid Arrow."_ A green arrow sprang from his hand and raced towards the Mind Flayer, hitting it for seven points of damage.

Aramil stole a quick glance at McGonagall. "I'm going to need you to get Professor Dumbledore, lock the door, and make sure no one else comes in. I can handle him." McGonagall looked at him as if he was mad. "Are you crazy?! I'm not leaving you by yourself, you could die!" "I'll be fine-woah!" The Mind Flayer slashed at him with his dagger, giving him a cut on his shoulder that stung quite a lot. Aramil alerted Lilith with a sense of alarm, and jumped back. _Hopefully she'll know what to bring. _"Just go! Your students must be terrified out there." Mentioning them seemed to snap her out of it. "She hurried over to the door. "I'll be back with help." He casted _Black Fire _at the Ilithid's feet to back it up. "Just go already! I can't concentrate with you hovering around."

Aramil returned his full attention to his opponent, only to notice the acid wounds already healing. "What? You have fast healing? Mind Flayers don't have fast healing. This is above my pay grade. _Kelgore's Grave Mist." _A mist appeared around it, but the Mind Flayer seemed to ignore it. "What! That's impossible. It effects...living creatures. Oh." Aramil jumped out of the way of what was most likely a life-draining grapple. So it was an undead Ilithid. _Even more of an abomination. Wait, wasn't there a type of vampires just for Mind Flayers in...Lords of Madness, that's right. Resistant to cold and electricity. Here goes nothing. _Aramil faced the vampire. _"Command Undead." _Nothing.

The vampire snarled and pinned him to the ground. Its tentacles attached to his neck and started greedily sucking blood. "Goddammit! I hate ability damage." Aramil tried pushing it off. "Hmph!" No dice, literally and figuratively. "Dammit, another round of ability damage." Using the Still Mystery feat, he casted a Stilled Orb of Fire Shadow Evocation. At close range, which was probably a bad idea.

The Ilithid instantly erupted into flames, recoiling with a shriek. Unfortunately, so did Aramil, taking 24 points of damage. Now he was at seven hitpoints. _Now to finish him off. "Acid Arrow, Acid Arrow, Acid Arrow, Magic Missile." _With a bone-chilling shriek, the Ilithid Vampire turned to dust, leaving behind his robe. Aramil pushed himself up to lie against the wall. "Damn, that's painful."

* * *

Aramil surveyed the destroyed remains of the classroom. Most of the desks were either overturned, scuffed up by glass shards,on fire, eaten through by acid, or some combination of the four. _Adventurers. Come into a dungeon, and leave it utterly destroyed when you leave._

Lilith flew through the window, flapping her wings hard to keep her and the backpack aloft. She fell down beside Aramil, clearly exhausted. "About time Lilith..." He could feel her surprise grow as she looked around the classroom. "What the hell just happened?" Aramil shifted Lilith to a place relatively clean of glass shards and started looking through the Haversack. "Oh, nothing much. Just a battle with a Vampire Ilithid. You know, that kind from _Lords of Madness?" _ She looked over at the dust. "Oh, that explains things. So, how much XP did you earn?" Huh. He hadn't even considered that. He pulled out his character sheet. "Okay, I got 4200 XP from that, increase it by 210 percent...ooh, 8820 XP. Now I'm eight level." He quickly updated all the level-dependent benefits and put it away. He could put in spells later. Aramil took out his Death Spike spear from his Haversack, which looked completely ridiculous, and used it to pull himself up. _Okay, the world's shaking. _He picked up his backpack. When he straightened up, he swayed alarmingly. _Oh, I made the Dexterity check. That's nice. _Leaning heavily on the spear for support, Aramil moved slowly out of the room. _Clunk. Clunk. Clunk._

He pushed on the door. "Hmm. McGonagall must've locked the door. Okay then. _Lightning Bolt." _The bolt blasted the door off its hinges and set it alight, sending it slamming into the other wall. Aramil hobbled out into the hallway with Lilith on his shoulder. There were a few portraits that were absolutely full of gossiping inhabitants, but other than them, there was no one in sight. "Oi, you...people. Where'd everyone go?"

A stick-like monk somehow took a drink of what looked like wine. "No idea. The whole class ran off in one direction, while McGonagall came out a bit later and ran off in the other. What happened in there anyway?" Aramil put away his spear. "Well, it involves a time-travelling alien...oh look, there she is now." Dumbledore and McGonagall came rushing around the top corner at top speed, wands out. Dumbledore came up to Aramil, while McGonagall went inside the room. Dumbledore eyes widened as he took in his appearance. "Aramil, what happened?"

Aramil looked down at himself. His robes were torn, burnt, he had a bit of both what looked like acid and fire burns, and to top it off, he was still oozing blood from the four tentacle wounds. It seemed sort of funny, now that he thought of it. He giggled. "Oh, you know. Fire this way, and acid that way, and enough magical power to turn a Vampiric Mind Flayer to dust, which is exactly what happened. Dah dah dah daaaah dah..." Aramil saw the world tilt at a sharp angle, and he fell against the wall, causing Lilith to hop off his shoulder to the ground. "Ow." Dumbledore conjured up a floating cot. "You seem to have lost a lot of blood. I'll take you to the hospital wing." Aramil waved his hand. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm perfectly fine. 6 con damage, 27 regular damage, but I'm alright." He waited for the world to stop spinning again. McGonagall came out of the room.

"What did you do? The room looks like a bomb went off. Desks overturned, fire everywhere... And where's that...thing?"

"Dust. Even Ilithids can't take an _Orb of Fire _at point-blank range." Dumbledore stopped trying to badger him into the cot. "An Ilithid? That's what the creature is called?" Aramil nodded, which did wonders for his headache. "Yup. A vampire Ilithid, but that's not the point. They're parasites. They start as tadpoles, swimming in through a human or humanoid, not sure, and then eat the brain completely, attaching itself to the brain stem and replacing the brain." McGonagall looked sick. Dumbledore began tracing his wand over his wounds, which started to heal. "And this Ilithid was from your world?" Dumbledore's_ not that bad at healing. _"Yeah, which is odd. I guess it could've been here for a long time, but that wouldn't explain how it knew who I was. Sounded like it was here to kill me, which I don't see anyone doing. How could they deprive people of the joy of seeing my face? Chaotic Evil bastards. Oh don't give me that look, I was almost killed and had my brain extracted, cut me some slack." Dumbledore stopped his healing and stepped back. "I've managed to close most of the wounds, but I couldn't do anything about the blood loss. You'll have to go to the hospital wing."

Aramil shrugged. "Okay. How bad can it be?"

* * *

"What do you mean I'm stuck here?!"

Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse and a stern-looking woman who ushered him into a bed as soon as he took one step into the room, was looking through an odd assortment of potions. "You have blood loss, a nasty cut on your shoulder, and burns. You'll have to stay the night, maybe a few more."

Aramil sighed. "Okay. If it helps."

"Good. I'll be back in a few moments, don't drink the potion yet, I have a few shell-shocked students waiting for me." Pomfrey placed a ruby-red potion vial on his bed-stand, then hurried away after closing the curtains.

He laced his hands together and waited quietly.

_Well this is boring. I wonder how long it'll take for me to escape. _He could walk through the front door with absurdly high Diplomacy and Bluff checks, though that lacked a certain flair. He could always jump through the window, though he viewed that as sort of cliche."You know what, I think I'll ride straight through the doors on a horse. _Phantom Steed." _It was a ten-minute casting time, so if he was lucky, he'd be left alone.

As soon as he started casting, Myra walked in, holding a sleeping Lilith in her hands. "Hey there, honey. Heard you almost got killed by a Vampiric Mind Flayer." She placed Lilith on the bed-stand, and got up on the bed, throwing her legs over his.

"Myra, as much as I appreciate you coming to visit me, I'm trying to concentrate. You're too distracting." Aramil realized what he just said as Myra raised an eyebrow. _Hmm, how do I escape this room full of Explosive Runes..._ "I mean, I'm casting a spell, it's just that. Not that you're _not _distracting, of course. I mean-"

Myra placed a hand over his mouth. "For a person who has thirty odd points of Charisma and a huge modifier to Diplomacy checks, you can really talk yourself into a corner. I get what you mean." She looked over at the visible outline of the _Phantom Horse. _"So you got bored, decided to escape, and settled on riding a horse out."_  
_

"Yeah, how'd you figure that out?" _How the hell did she find out? Sirines don't have telepathy, last time I checked.I suppose she could've rolled a really good Sense Motive check, or she could've picked up a few class levels-_

"Adventurers always chose the most dramatic way out. It's the First Law of Adventuring." _  
_

Aramil shifted her off, and clambered out of bed, getting on the Phantom Horse. "You know what, I think I'll call him...Phantasma." Myra passed him his Handy Haversack, then carefully gave him Lilith. "I don't suppose I can come with you?" Aramil pulled out the _Player's Handbook. _"Hmm, let's see...here it is. 'The steed can be ridden only by you or by the one person for whom you specifically created the mount'. Sorry, seems like you can't. How'd you get in anyway?"

Myra shrugged. "I just walked in. The nurse asked me if she could help me, I told her I was your girlfriend, asked to see you, and she let me in."

He tucked Lilith into one of the side flaps. "Well, that ruins the air of mystery around me, but no matter. See you tonight." Aramil tugged the reins. "C'mon Phantasma. Let's go." Phantasma whinnied, and charged full speed through the curtains.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey was just about to enter when he charged outside. _Ah, crap. Time to alter reality. _Aramil closed his eyes for a moment. Phantasma passed right through her like smoke (technically, it _was_ smoke). Aramil tugged the reins to the left, narrowly avoiding an awkward collision with her. "Sorry, gotta go!" He called over his shoulder as Phantasma jumped the hospital beds like hurdles. Aramil used his _Umbral Hand _mystery to knock open the doors a second before he slammed into them. Aramil rode Phantasma down the hallway to the left, and slowed the pace to a walk. A _Phantom Steed _only worked for the caster or the person indicated. The steed refused to fight in the case of combat, so it wouldn't throw off the person. Therefore, Aramil theorized, other people simply couldn't grasp it, and they passed right through it. He hoped. He had no idea where he was. Aramil turned to the portrait of a tall, brooding, monkey-ish looking wizard in emerald-green robes. "Sorry to bother you, but could you point me towards the grand staircase?"

The wizard glared. "No. Now go away."

Aramil sighed. "Look. I have had a really bad day. Someone tried to kill me, and they're a pile of dust. Now, do you want to be burnt to a cinder, or be blasted by lightning?" The wizard snorted.

"Hmph. Typical of your kind. Turn left at the plate of armor, then turn right at the next turn. Now never bother me again." He walked out of his frame, leaving nothing but a background of black.

"_Thank you." _Aramil sped up Phantasma to a trot. "I sincerely hope to never see you again, whoever you are." Phantasma stopped at the head of where the staircase would be, if it wasn't on the other side of the gap. Aramil slid out of the saddle and dismissed the spell. "You know, I should really make a permanent version of that, if I take Craft Wondrous Item instead of Shadow Familiar for my plan to take Master of Shadow...I'll discuss that with Lilith later." He got out his familiar and began poking her. "Oi, wake up!"

"alright, alright, I'm waking up.." Lilith shook herself awake, though Aramil could tell she was still half-asleep through their link. Whadda you want? Was asleep..." Aramil suppressed a smirk.

"Why yes, I do feel better after my life-threatening battle with the Ilithid. Anyway, I don't feel like waiting for the staircase, so I'm jumping over the edge. Thought I'd wake you up first." The staircase shifted over to Aramil as soon as he just finished. _Seriously? _Lilith looked irritated.

"So can I go back to sleep now?"

"...No." Aramil tossed Lilith over the edge, then jumped himself. The winds were howling in his ears as the stairs went by in a blur. _Is it just me, or have I been falling to my potential doom a lot lately? _He slowly extended his wings. It felt like his muscles were on fire, but he managed to pull out of the plunge just in time. Aramil landed without a sound at the bottom of the stairs. Lilith flew her way down a few seconds later.

"I'm starting to think you don't appreciate me as much as you should."

Aramil had already walked over to a nearby mirror and started examining his reflection. His hair was slightly burnt, though his face was relatively unscathed. Aramil blinked and his right eye turned green*. "Nonsense. What gives you that idea?" _Yeah, I think I'll keep it like this. _"You're one of the most important people in my life. In fact, I think I'm going to use my new Shadowcaster bonus feat to get you the Dark Creature template." _Either that, or the Dragon Familiar feat for a white dragon wyrmling. Everything's better with dragons._ "Now let's go. If we hurry, we can still catch lunch."

* * *

***When a Shee character levels up, they can change one thing about their appearance, as long as it doesn't alter their bone structure.**


	14. Chapter 14

Aramil entered the Great Hall. The students were talking animatedly, clearly about what had happened in McGonagall's classroom. As he walked to the staff table, the general volume of the chatter surged upwards. _Definitely about the Ilithid._ Dumbledore look concerned when Aramil sat down. "Aramil, what are you doing? You should be resting."

He took a bite of a particularly red apple. "I'm _fine_. How are the students?"

"They seem shaken, but fine. The news will be in the papers by tomorrow morning, and Cornelius and the Ministry will come knocking." Dumbledore looked stressed. Aramil felt a bit of pity, which was a very rare thing for him. _Oh Ao, am I turning Good? _

"I can take care of that. Tomorrow, perhaps at lunch? It could also bring the teachers up to speed." He noticed most of the teachers were leaning in to listen.

He nodded. "Thank you, Aramil. But you should really get back to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey must be quite angry. How did you get out?"

Aramil shrugged. "It was sort of easy. I just conjured up a horse, and rode it out of the hospital wing. Aside from the rude painting, everything was fine." Dumbledore took a sip of water. Aramil noticed that he had never seen the professor drink anything other than water. "That's quite an achievement. Most wizards would find it hard to conjure something of that size."

"Well, I'm not your average person...what do you want, Lilith?" Lilith ceased her pecking.

"Sorry, it's just something about the Ilithid. You said it asked for your name?"

"Yes, so? Mind Flayers consider the brains of Fey a delicacy. Maybe it was looking for a bite." Lilith shook her head. "No,no,no. Whatever happened to adventurer's paranoia? It said, 'time to die'. If it was just a spontaneous decision, it wouldn't bother with words, or anything else to confirm your identity. It would just kill you."

"So this one.." This was starting to turn unpleasant for Aramil very quickly.

"Was probably told to kill you."

* * *

Aramil took a deep breath. He drank a mouthful of whatever was in his cup. It tasted sweet. "Well that's distressing. Who'd want to destroy someone with a face like mine?" Lilith did her best to scowl at him, which looked no different from her usual look. Crows tended to have somewhat limited facial expressions.

"Aramil, you're not taking this seriously. Someone out there's trying to kill you, for Vecna's sake!"

"So? All I have to do is level up two more times, when I get _Lesser Planar Binding. _Summon up an Imp, use its _commune_ ability, and presto. I know everything about the person. Problem solved." Aramil's eyes wandered the Hall. Anyone in here could be trying to kill him. "Though for the short-term, I'll have to be more careful...maybe retrain for _Detect Thoughts._"

"Aramil?" He looked up to see that the students and teachers were leaving the hall for the next lesson. Him and Dumbledore were the only two people still in their seats.

"Oh, sorry Professor." Aramil got up from his seat and started walking towards the doors that led outside before he had an idea and turned around. "Professor?"

Dumbledore stopped and turned towards him. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"Do you know where I can get nitric acid, copper, zinc, the eyes of a hawk or eagle, and a highly polished silver mirror?" He might be able to scry on the mastermind behind the Ilithid assassination attempt, if he managed to level up. He just needed a connection..."Oh, and did you throw out the robes? I'm going to need them too." _There might also be magical loot, so that's also an issue. _"And all his other possessions.I need them."

Dumbledore blinked in surprise, but he didn't press Aramil. "I _might_ have a silver mirror lying around, I'll have a house-elf check that. McGonagall's classes are cancelled for the day, I'll have to ask her...As for the other materials, I should be able to get them to you by tonight at the latest. Do you need it earlier, or will that suffice?"

"No that's fine. Um, thanks." He was surprised at Dumbledore's... efficiency. _Never underestimate the shopping power of really old wizards. _Aramil headed for the door, with Lilith on his uninjured shoulder.

* * *

Aramil walked down the steps of Hogwarts. The cool air felt good on his wings..._Hmm..Ah, what the hells. _Lilith hurriedly flew off his shoulder, knowing what he was about to do. He got a running start, and took off. Aramil flew straight up, until he could see just about anything, and then turned in the direction of Hagrid's hut. He turned to Lilith, who was gliding beside him. "Okay, I don't get it. If you can fly, why would you ever come down?"

If it was physically possible, Lilith would be laughing. Amusement rolled off her in waves. "You'd be surprised about how many fifth-level wizards die because they forget the time limit on _Fly. _Seriously, they get so wrapped up in the euphoria that they become splats on the ground. Moderation is the way to go. Now hurry up, you're supposed to be helping Hagrid. I think I'll just fly for a while."

"Right." Aramil spotted the paddock and started to descend. He landed right behind a blond-haired boy. For some odd reason, the books they were holding were clearly animate. Hagrid had just walked off into the woods, presumably to fetch the Hippogriffs for the lesson. The boy was talking unpleasantly.

"God, this place is going to the dogs. That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him." Aramil frowned. The Slytherin was clearly talking about Hagrid.

"Five points from Slytherin for talking that way." Apparently the school had a points system, where students could have points given by the teachers for good behavior, or have them taken away for misbehaving. Aramil wasn't really a teacher or a student, but Dumbledore had waved his wand and somehow linked him to the points system. The boy whirled around, as did most of the class. It was a class of the third-year Slytherins and the Gryffindors. Most of them seemed to recognize him.

The Slythrin boy looked at him with confusion. "Who are you? You're not a teacher, you can't take away points." He had two third-years who looked like they had ogre blood on either side of him, both of which were doing their best to look menacing. _Oh, that makes sense. Every smooth-talking rival needs a pair of dim-witted thugs. So he's an antagonist. _

"Actually, I can. So, five more points from Slytherin. Anything else to say?" The boy looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it and shut his mouth, clearly furious. His thugs looked like they didn't know what to do. Aramil smiled and patted him on the head. "Good boy." Over his shoulder, he saw Hagrid approaching, holding the chains to a dozen or so Hippogriffs. Hagrid looked surprised to see him. _He must've heard._

"Aramil! Didn't expect you to show up. Heard about the..."

"Bah." Aramil waved a hand. "I'm fine, even if my robes are a bit scorched." He stepped up to the fence and leaned on it. The gray Hippogriff seemed to be trying to break free, but Hagrid kept a firm hold on the chains. "Think I'd break a promise?" It was funny, Aramil had thought, how so many Fey were Chaotic in nature, yet they always kept their word.

Hagrid grunted in agreement. "Right then." He bent down to tether the Hippogriffs to the fence, then straightened back up and faced the class, grinning at their expressions. "Hippogriffs! Beauties, aren't they?" Aramil had to agree. He had only seen Hippogriffs up close once in his life, when he was riding one with an elven hunting party about a quarter of a century ago, but he had retained a fondness for them. These were more vividly coloured then the dull brown ones the elves kept, with shades of bronze, red, and black among them.

He rubbed his hands together, both of which could double as heavy shields. "So, if yeh wan'ter to come a bit closer..." No one stepped even an inch closer, except for Harry and his two friends. They all seemed terrified of the Hippogriff's beaks, and their razor-sharp talons. They did have a reason to be scared. Hippogriffs ate humanoids quite often, after all._ Good thing I'm a Fey._ _  
_

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud. Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't ever insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do." _Bah. Even if they won initiative and hit with their bite attack for max damage and a critical hit, I could easily drop one with an Arrow of Dusk or two. But then again, I could easily take out the Tarrasque now if I had a scroll of Summon Undead IV. _Hagrid kept on talking like they were sentient.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move. It's polite, see?" Aramil frowned. What was this, lessons from the clergy of Sune? It was starting to sound like a class on courting. Most of the pupils looked skeptical.

"Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. Okay, who wants ter go first?" The class backed further away, not wanting to be singled out. "No one?" A possible chance of death by trampling, slashing, or getting kicked to death with hooves. No one in their right mind would willingly do it._  
_

"I'll do it," Aramil said ,a second before Harry said "I'll do it."

Aramil turned to look at him. _Should've expected it. He has a dark and troubled past, a cool scar, he's famous, and he volunteers for crazy tasks. He couldn't be more like a PC then if he had a family sword and a prophecy about him, which isn't likely to occur. _He stared silently at Harry with an eyebrow raised in question. _I have a Intimidate modifier of 17, bring it.__  
_

Harry backed down. "You know what, you can go first..." Aramil smiled and shrugged. "Okay then." Aramil hopped over the fence and approached Hagrid. He could feel what was the emotional equivalent of a sigh from Lilith, who was still circling overhead. She dived down to a tree that overlooked the paddock so she could keep an eye on him. Hagrid looked relieved.

"Uh, thanks for volunteerin' Aramil. Appreciate it." Hagrid whispered quickly. He raised his voice to normal again. "Okay Aramil, let's see how you do with Windrider over here." He untied the inky black hippogriff from his peers, pulling it away from them and to a clearly visible space in the middle of the paddock. He took off the leather collar and dropped it on the grass. Windrider looked at Aramil with questioning eyes. _Okay, is everything intelligent here? First the portraits, then the dog, and now this. Next thing I know, I'll meet intelligent wizard snakes that like to gossip._

Aramil was just about to bow, when Windrider bent its bird legs in a graceful bow. Aramil looked over at Hagrid. "Uh...so does this always happen?' Hagrid blinked distractedly a few times. "No, this never happens. Hippogriffs are too proud. I think.. it's probably safe to approach." Aramil shrugged. _Possible dismemberment! Yay! _He stepped up to Windrider and cautiously stroked his neck.

"Hello, Windrider," He said in a low voice, "I guess you recognize one of the Shee. Of course, it could also be my Wild Soul levels." Many of what Aramil saw as normal, everyday animals were seen as rare, obviously magical beings hidden away from normal folk. So here, a Hippogriff could count as a Magical Beast. Aramil could probably find a way to twist that to his advantage, but he had more important things on his to-do list. Hagrid clapped enthusiastically along with the class.

"Great job, Aramil! You'll probably be able to ride him now!" Aramil stepped away. "Well as fun as that sounds, it's probably better to get on with the rest of the lesson. Besides, I've had plenty of Hippogriff rides before."

Hagrid shrugged. "Your loss. Now, if you could help me with the rest o' them..."

* * *

**Once again, I apologize for the really long wait. Two friends of a friend who's my neighbour cousin came over, and I spent most of the day with them. They were alright, despite constantly trying to set me up with their friend...Anyway, I watched Robot of Sherwood yesterday. It was PERFECT. And the trailer for the next episode looks like Moffat got bored and went back to terrifying people again. So anyway, I'll get to writing as soon as possible. Adios! **

**Wait, here's a list of houserules I'm using:**

***Bards, Sorcerers and other spontaneous casters get bonus spells known instead of more spell slots. Some classes are not subject to this rule.**

***Shadowcasters can enter prestige classes that require arcane spell-casting levels, as they can cast certain mysteries that function as arcane spells.  
**

**That's all. If I remember anymore, I'll post them on my profile.**


	15. Chapter 15

The Presence was seething with anger when it heard the news. How _dare _he? After obliterating the Succubus who brought the message (never mind that silly idiom these 'Muggles' had), he had furiously stalked through the woods in a rage, cutting down whatever he came across be it unicorns, centaurs, or wolves. He came to a densely clustered area of trees. He cut through the trees and came to a Leomund's Secure Shelter that was so covered in stacked, Permanencied Illusion and Enchantment spells it would burst blood vessels in the mind of anything that used _Detect Magic._ It kicked open the door and addressed the being sitting by the fireplace. "Griezel! I should kill you now."

Griezel was horrifying beyond belief. The Quasit had three malformed eyes, with living, writhing worms for eyelashes. One of its arms was withered and barely noticeable, while the other was rubbery and boneless like a tentacle. Its feet and torso were covered in pulsing lumps that seemed alive. The Demon scooped still-twitching insects into his mouth with his tentacle. "Ah, that. So what?"

Its cloak floated off its shoulder and placed itself in a drawer. _"SO WHAT?! WE NEED HIM, AND YOU SENT AN ASSASSIN AFTER HIM!" _The Presence took a deep breath. "The only reason you are alive right now, is that your attempt failed. Had he been slain, you would mysteriously find yourself remarkably similar to Aramil."

Griezel laughed shakily. "Hilarious, but I'm your familiar! Do you really want to lose all that XP? And how would you _Commune _with your, say, patron." He smiled wickedly. "You're stuck with me..._Rurik._"

Rurik glared at him, but sat down in the chair opposite him. "I told you _not _to call me that. That little boy died a very long time ago." His tentacles waved angrily, and the room seemed to darken for a moment. Rurik closed his eyes for a moment. "Now, the plan has been changed. I'm going to need you to dig through our scrolls. We need...one scroll of Greater Planar Binding, two..no no, make that three Dimensional Anchors, and a scroll of Magic Circle against Evil." Rurik sighed. "Why couldn't I have gone into Sublime Chord?"

* * *

Aramil watched as the students bowed to the various Hippogriffs. Most of them seemed nervous, though few seemed excited. He was chatting with Lilith when Hagrid came back up to him after checking around the Hippogriffs.

"So, you've ridden Hippogriffs before?" Aramil looked up from his character sheet. He had used his Shadowcaster bonus feat to get Miser With Magic (just about the best damn metamagic feat in existence, he had no idea what the gods were thinking), and was chatting with Lilith about the possibility of using Arcane Disciple to gain the Limbo Planar Domain.

"What? Oh yeah, that. About a century ago, I was riding with an elven hunting party. We were hunting...bugbears, I think. I had to use a crossbow, not proficient with bows. But still, I helped out." Aramil smiled fondly. "Ah, those were the days. I discovered a talent for the pipes, had one or a dozen glasses of elven wine, met a rather attractive Bard..." Aramil shook his head. "Sorry, you don't want to hear about that. But yeah, I've seen Hippogriffs before. Magnificent, aren't they? Where'd you get them?" Hagrid puffed up with pride. He was apparently proud about the herd.

"I got them as eggs, from the centaurs in the forest. They keep 'em sort of like hunting dogs, to hunt in the forest. Can't ride em, so they were okay with giving them to me. For a price, o' course." Aramil watched as a nervous-looking student backed away quickly from a steely-eyed Hippogriff that refused to bow. Buckbeak, the gray one, and Windrider, were the pets of Kettleburn. He was the Professor before me."

"Why'd he retire? Old age?"

"Nah, missing limbs." Aramil couldn't tell if he was serious, despite his racial bonus to Sense Motive. "He only had 'bout...an arm, and half o' his leg when he retired. He was reckless, always rushing into things. He tried to sneak up on a unicorn herd once to get a good picture once. He got the picture, but him and the camera was trampled when the unicorns were spooked. Lost a couple of teeth." Aramil had no idea what a 'Kamera' was, but it sounded magical. _That would explain why the Unicorns ran. Must be some sort of item with a Scare spell on it. Unicorns only have 4 hit dice after all, aside from celestial chargers. I should get one. I'll put that on the list. _The Slytherin boy Aramil had talked with at the start of the class was patting Buckbeak on the, well, beak. His goons (the boy _really_ looked like an evil prince) were standing at a distance.

It happened quite quickly. One moment the boy was saying something to the Hippogriff that Aramil couldn't make out, and the next he was on the ground, with blood on his robes and on Buckbeak's talons.

_Twice in a day. __Oh well. _Aramil immediately used his _Summon Seelie Ally _twice, summoning two Shadar-Kai next to Buckbeak. They grabbed the Hippogriff by the neck and yanked him back, making his claw miss the Slytherin by inches. Aramil sprinted towards them. Even with two of them, they weren't going to hold him for long. Shadar-Kai had a Strength score of 10, almost half the score of the average Hippogriff, and Buckbeak stood head and shoulders above the rest. The grapple wasn' going to hold for long. The boy was panicking.

"I'm dying! I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!" The kid had only a large gash down his arm. _Oh, quit your whining pansy. As long as you're still talking, you're above 0 hitpoints. You're fine._ Aramil got the leather collar back on and helped the shadow fey secure him to a tree. Hagrid was as white as a vampire with the Cold Subtype.

Yer not dyin'! Someone help me - gotta get him outta here -" The girl tat was staring at him in Professor Gryffindor's class (Miss Brown, he thought) quickly opened the gate. Hagrid scooped him up and raced towards the castle, leaving drops of blood on the ground. The class instantly started talking. While they were accusing him -apparently the boy was called Malfoy- of saying something while the Slytherins were defending him, one of the Shadar-Kai walked up to him.

"You have approximately twenty seconds before the summoning spells expire." He spoke in Undercommon, for some reason.

Aramil replied in Sylvan. Shadar-Kai hated other fey, and he felt like replying in Sylvan would be the icing on the cake "Oh, right. You may go now." He dismissed the spells, sending them back to the Plane of Shadow, or wherever they came from. He turned around to notice the class was still there, and was staring at him.

He frowned. "Still here? What, do you need something?" The brown-haired girl who seemed to be always hanging around Harry Plotter, or whatever his name was, spoke up.

"Uh, well you're the teacher, sir, and-"

Aramil held up a hand. "First things first, never call me sir again. It makes me feel like a crotchety old man. I like to think I look better than that. Got it?" She nodded mutely. "Second, everyone's dismissed. Someone go to McGonagall and tell her what happened, and...someone tell Dumbledore what just happened. Everyone else, go to your dorms or something. Don't wander the halls." _God, I sound old. Well, I mean mature, I'm considered ancient by all the common races. Except for the Elans, but they don't have a Maximum Age. _Aramil walked towards where Lilith was perched as the class broke up.

"Wow. Just wow. Two attacks in the same day, with you being in the same class. You sure you're not cursed?"

"Ha ha. But you have a point, sort of. It does seem odd there's two attacks, both of which could've been lethal, both in my vicinity. You think they're connected?" Lilith did a little shrug.

"Maybe. You need to level up quick, get _Scrying, _and you can find out." She pointed a wing towards the trees of the Forbidden Forest. "March in, and unleash magical hell on anything that gets in your way."

"Fascinating, but I only have..." He quickly pulled out his character sheet and scanned it over. "Five first level slots, no second level, and only two third level. Oh, and all of my cantrips, but they won't do much. Oh yeah, I also have my spell-like abilities." He put it away and shrugged. "Huh, I might actually survive. Okay, let's do this."

With a quick look around to make sure no one was watching them, Aramil and Lilith stepped into the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

It was eerily quiet in the forest. Aramil carefully got out his spear. "Okay Lilith, I'm going to need you to put that Hide skill to use. Follow behind me, but at a distance."

"Got it." Lilith silently flew up into the treetops. If it wasn't for their link, he wouldn't have known she was anywhere near him at all. Aramil chose a direction at random and just went with it. "Well this is a totally new experience for me." There was a short flare of amusement from Lilith that was quickly stifled. He walked for what felt like an hour, but was probably ten minutes. _I should've aimed for a higher Constitution score. _Aramil laid down on a rock that looked disturbingly like an anatomically correct heart to sit on so he could take a break for a few minutes. He was really feeling that Constitution damage..._  
_

"Ah, nature. Chirping birds, that smell of rain, and...what appears to be a corpse." A feminine-looking hand was peaking out from behind a tree. It was pale, which probably meant it had been out there for a while. Or not, Aramil mused, this world was weirder then the Far Realm. At least those monsters grasped the basic concept of alignment and Hit Die. Aramil got out his spear and made a Move Silently check. He had seen dozen of adventurers who were massacred because they didn't bother to get a Rogue. _'Bah, we don't need one. He'll just be greedy and take all the treasure. We're perfectly fine with a Fighter, Ranger, and Favoured Soul.'_ The Necromancer who killed them had sent them back to their families... as Nightwalkers. Last time Aramil had heard, the city had been decimated.

Aramil passed, which meant the woman was either dead-dead, or was just undead and had a lousy wisdom score. Either way, he wasn't taking any chances. He paused behind the tree to give Lilith an empathetic heads-up, then jumped out from cover.

_"Magic Missile!"_

Four glowing blue missiles seemed to fly out of his fingertips, each hitting her directly in the stomach, for a total of fifteen point of damage. Or, it would've been if she was alive. She was clearly dead, her face looking like she had seen a level five Dread Witch the moment before her death.

Oh, and she was a Succubus.

* * *

Aramil managed to stop gaping for a second to call Lilith over. "Um, Lilith? You might want to see this." Lilith flew/hopped to Aramil's head. "Sure, what's wrong-" Hr curiosity was immediately replaced with shock. "What the Hells?"

"Abyss, actually." He corrected,"But that's not the point here."

Lilith didn't even smack him with a wing for that horrible joke. "What's a Succubus doing here?"

"I don't know, Planar Binding? Your guess is as good as mine." He crouched down to look at the ichor-soaked hole in what little there was of her dress, if you could call it that. "Looks like she was killed by a Piercing weapon, most likely cold iron. It's cheaper than enhancements. And it functions in Antimagic Fields." Aramil noticed that most of the area was slashed to pieces, and the ground trampled. _Looks like she didn't go down easily. _

"Well that's all well and good, but- What are you doing?"

"Looting the corpse. What does it look like?" She was wearing a black torc with a blood-red stone set in it. _Seems valuable._ He put it aside and made another Search check. Hopefully the demon had good stuff, and not just assorted magical trinkets to help with hygienic issues a centuries old demon would have. _Never sleep with a Succubus, you'll probably catch something.__  
_

Lilith seemed a bit torn. "Well...it's a demon, doesn't really deserve any respect, I suppose.." Her mind became clearer. "Okay, but we should still at least try to track down the killer. You don't want to have someone who can kill a succubus roaming the woods. They have to be able to cast _Lesser Planar Binding, _so...about ninth-level. A ninth-level wizard is running around in the woods."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Aramil put the jewelry in the side-pocket of the Haversack and stood up. "So which way do we go? I don't have the Track feat, and you don't have the Scent extraordinary ability. " Lilith nodded.

"True, but I do have a decent spot modifier, so I suggest we follow those." Lilith pointed her wing to a collection of small pools of a silvery substance that led off further into the woods.

_Oh. How did I not notice that? _"In my defense, I only have a +2 modifier to Spot checks."

"Duly noted." Aramil crouched down to examine the puddle. It seemed magical, so he used his Detect Magic SLA.

Nothing. He picked up faint traces of magic in the surrounding area (this place seemed like it was nuked hundreds of times with magic), but none in the liquid. Out of curiosity, he dipped an index finger in the liquid. It was warm, but it seemed to be fading. It was somewhat thicker then water. Aramil stared at the liquid, while a potentially suicidal idea was rapidly forming in his mind._  
_

Lilith, even through the limited link, could tell what he was about to do. "Don't do that, that's a terrible idea! Are you insane?" Aramil fixed her with a look. "Oh right, you're a PC. You're all insane." She gave a little exasperated raven sigh. " Well, I guess that line about Adventurers rushing in where Devas fear to tread is completely true...fine then, do it. Aramil stirred his finger around in the silvery substance for a few seconds, trying to muster up the courage to do it.

With a somewhat trembling hand, he scooped up a portion of the liquid, and raised it to his lips.

* * *

** Sorry about the long wait, I had...stuff to do. I'll get back to slaving over the computer as soon as possible. Remember to read, review, and share this with your friends/minions.**


	16. Chapter 17

Lilith hopped down from his head. "So? How is it?"

Aramil swallowed it. Even though it was about lukewarm, it felt icy cold going down his throat. "It's... surprisingly good, actually. Feels a bit odd going down, but it's pretty good." Aramil reached for more, but Lilith pecked at his hand, leaving a gash.

"Ow! Lilith, what the hell! What was that for?"

"Sorry, but it's for your own good. It could still be poisonous, maybe in larger doses. Or it could be some sort of drug, or something designed to make you eat it until you die. So for now, no more. But put in a container, we might be able to use it."

"Of course, Your Majesty." He put down his spear for a moment and rummaged around in the Handy Haversack with one hand for something he could use to hold it. "Alchemist's Fire, might need that...collapsible 12-foot pole, even I can't find a way for that... Here we go, a few flasks of acid." Araml held up a flask that was covered in a thin layer of dust. "Wow, almost forgot about this." Aramil unstopped the flask, pouring out the acid with a sizzle. He noted that the silver liquid was entirely unaffected by the acid. _Interesting. _Aramil bottled up the mysterious liquid, putting it away in the side compartment. "One flask should be enough." He straightened back up. Finding a large branch, he put it over the corpse of the Succubus to mark it, if he needed to come back.

He dusted off his hands. "Okay, that's done. So, let's follow those... puddles." Aramil sighed. That sounded like the most uninspiring thing ever uttered, which was surprising, seeing as it came from him. Lilith shook her head disapprovingly.

"You have serious vanity problems."

He laughed as he began following the tracks. "Well, when you're more charismatic than 16 or so deities, some of which are Greater Deities...does it really count as vanity if it's true?"

Lilith, who was perching on his shoulder, was remarkably blunt. "Yes."

Aramil shrugged, causing Lilith to hold out her wings to steady herself. "If you say so." He followed the trail deeper into the woods, the trees and plants getting narrower and narrower. He was starting to wish he had taken Druid levels. Woodland Stride was starting to seem a lot better. He noticed that the liquid seemed to be leaving a consistent path, as if it was leaking from a jar someone was holding. Either that, or it was... Aramil did his best not to think about it. _That's ridiculous. There's no way that could happen naturally, in a place so thickly saturated with magic... Okay, I'm a horrible motivator. _

Lilith nudged Aramil. "Hey, look up ahead." He glanced up from his musings to see that the puddles (they were puddles, it was overkill to describe it as anything else) were getting larger further ahead, where there seemed to be a clearing, possibly where the bearer of the liquid probably stopped. Aramil stopped. He was feeling a bit panicky. _Shut up Aramil, you can do this. You're a sorcerer, and a damn good-looking one at that. Anything you can't kill, you can seduce. Then kill. _He marched into the clearing, spear at the ready and a Lightning Bolt a few seconds away.

The clearing was surprisingly beautiful. It had a neat ring of trees on the outside, and a babbling brook cutting through the middle, but Aramil wasn't really paying attention to that. There was something in the stream. It was hard to see through the tall, uncut grass, but Aramil could see the water that was being pushed up onto the grass from the blockage. He switched his spear to his other hand and walked towards the stream.

"I feel like this is going to end badly..." Still, he kept on walking forward. If you didn't throw yourself headfirst into dangerous situations, you didn't deserve to be a PC. Armil went up to the edge and looked down. He expected to see a tree branch, or another rock, maybe one that looked like an anatomically correct brain. He didn't expect to see _that_.

There was a dead unicorn in the middle of the stream.

It was starting to rot, attracting flies and other insects that were buzzing around it. It had clearly been dead for a while. There was no beard, which meant it was either a female, or a young male. Aramil pulled out a pinch of coloured sand from his spell component pouch.

_"Colour Spray."_

All the insects dropped out of the air, falling into the water and being swept downstream. Most creatures of Tiny or smaller didn't even have a full Hit Die, and had terrible Will saves, making the spell useful for getting rid of insects or other small animals. He found them irritating. Aramil examined the horn. It wasn't covered in blood, so it was unlikely that this was the creature attacked the Succubus. Of course, it could've been washed off in the stream. _No sense in letting this go to waste. _Aramil crouched down, and prepared to saw off the unicorn's horn.

Lilith smacked him with her wing "Whoa! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Aramil brushed her off his shoulder, and started sawing of the horn. "Taking the horn. What does it look like? It's a useful spell component, and could probably fetch a nice price on whatever black market they have here, if it's illegal. And if it's not, more gold for me."

Lilith was definitely angry. "For Ao's sake, a unicorn just died! Show some respect! And even if it had been dead for years, you shouldn't loot a unicorn's corpse, they're creatures of pure good! Do you want to be hunted down by other unicorns for your whole life?"

He snorted with laughter. "It's just a spell component. It's not like I killed it, or abused the corpse in some way. Tell you what, if an increased Fortitude save doesn't com in handy, I'll immediately get rid of the horn, beg forgiveness from the nears unicorn herd, and spend fifty years protecting them with my life, and wear a skirt, and multiclass to Druid, and sing songs about how much I love ponies, and butterflies, all the time. Okay? Good." Lilith was about to speak, but just decided to shut up. "Okay, here...we...are!"

Aramil sawed off the last bit of the horn, a few flakes dropping into the stream. "Hmm, feels heavier than I thought it would feel."

"I'm _definitely_ sure it's not a curse from beyond the grave for ransacking a dead unicorn," Lilith chimed in sarcastically. "Why, what kind of sentient being would want to do that?" Aramil locked her in place with a _Clinging Darkness_, ignoring her indignant cries.

"Shut up, I'm busy." He looked the horn over. It didn't seem like it was under the effects of a curse, but that was why people had spells like _Nystul's Magic Aura _in the first place, which lasted for days. He slung off the Handy Haversack and put the horn in one of the side pockets, where the weight wouldn't be felt. _Ah, extra dimensional space. How do Clerics survive without it? _Aramil glanced over at the unicorn to make sure he didn't forget anything.

Flowing from the unicorn's fresh wound where its horn used to be, was a silvery, quicksilver-fast liquid running down the side of its face.

Exactly like the mysterious pool of liquid in the woods, that Aramil had drank.

* * *

Even with 14 Wisdom, it took him a few minutes to fit all the pieces together, and it wasn't a very pleasant realization.

"...Craaaaaap."

Meanwhile, Lilith had finally taken a full-round action, escaping from the shadows with a Reflex save, and was clearly pissed off. "Okay, that is the last straw, Aramil! You don't respect me, you ignore me, and you-" She looked down. "Huh. Just like the...oh, crap." Aramil nodded.

"Yup." They sat there in silence. And the birds were still chirping in the background, which was disturbingly cheerful. Aramil fought the urge to aim a _Lightning Bolt _in their general direction to kill them, or at least shut them up.

Lilith shifted uncomfortably. "So...what do we do now?" He shrugged.

"What can we do?" Aramil felt a bit queasy. "Go home, freak out a bit, meet up with Myra, tell her, freak out a bit more, tell Dumbledore, and- Well, you get the idea." He noticed that he had just referred to the cabin as 'home'. It was strange to call a place that. He never really had a home, as far as he could remember. Aramil had spent most of his life wandering from one plane to another. He had the opportunity to enter the Far Realm at one point, but wisely chose not to. _It was just as well, those two sorcerers never came back._

"Uh, Aramil?" Lilith was staring at something behind him. "You might want to see this."

"Actually, I don't." Finishing his inner monologue, he put down his spear and flipped over the unicorn to find a web of deep wounds in its side that were bleeding heavily. He noticed the barely visible silver sheen the water had. _Wow, the blood must've been in the water for a while. I wonder if it's attracted any attention yet.__  
_

"Yes you will, if you want to escape without...oh, I don't know, hundreds of holes in your upper body."

"What?" He turned around to see a horde of centaurs, all armed with longbows aiming at him. Without looking away from the angry herd of centaurs, he spoke to Lilith. "Lilith, please don't tell me there's still unicorn blood on my face."

She was a terrible liar. "Umm...there's no unicorn blood on your face?"

He swore in Abyssal. This day kept on getting worse and worse.

* * *

Aramil slowly stood up, picking up his spear. There were about twenty or so centaurs armed with bows, a few were carrying swords, and there were a few tat were wielding some odd-looking chain weapons.

"Okay, I know how this looks," he began, "But I didn't kill the unicorn. I just found its trail of blood, and followed it here. Aramill mentally cringed at what a flimsy and transparent excuse it sounded like. The centaurs clearly didn't believe him.

"Liar!" A female centaur nocked an arrow, pointing it at his chest. He was suddenly reminded of how very vulnerable he was. _I knew I should've been a Sorcadin of Freedom. Or at least taken that feat that gets me damage reduction. Being harder to hit doesn't really mean a lot when you do get hit._

"You have the blood of a unicorn on your lips. That is enough for me." The centaur launched the arrow. She looked like she had used a bow all her life, it was up close, and Aramil was not moving at all. Any other time, the arrow probably would've gone straight through his heart.

The arrow somehow missed him by a mile, and went off into the woods. _Okay, maybe getting my charisma modifier to my AC isn't so bad after all._

The archer looked dumbfounded. "How did that miss?! He wasn't even moving!" The other centaurs seemed to be discussing something. Aramil caught the words 'Hogwarts', 'Fey', and 'Ministry'. _Just once, I wish I could hear something instead of a few buzzwords. But then again, those are the rules. You're either close enough to overhear the Big Bad Evil Guy explain his master plan down to the last detail to people who already know it for no reason at all, or you hear a few interesting words that are key parts in the plan, but don't make sense until the plan's revealed. _Lilith was moving from one leg to the other nervously, looking for possible escape routes.

"Lilith, if you need to use the chamber pot that badly, go off and do it in the forest already."

"Ha ha, now shut up. They're debating something." A wild-looking black-haired centaur tapped on the archer's shoulder, and whispered something in her ear. She clearly didn't like it, judging by her face, but nodded reluctantly. She sheathed the next arrow she had drawn reflexively, and stepped back as the male centaur approached him.

"You will come with us, so you can verify your story." _Dammit, another goddamn side-quest.  
_

Aramil used a _Prestidigitation_ to clean up the blood. "I don't suppose I can pinky-swear that I didn't do it? I have things to do, one of which involve tracking down someone who sent an assassin after me." The centaur, who seemed to have some measure of authority over the others, made a gesture with his hand and said a quick few words that Aramil didn't get the gist of. The centaurs turned around to leave, but two roan-bodied centaurs broke off from the herd and approached him. One took his spear, and the other grabbed his hands roughly._  
_

"I can walk, you know, and these wings aren't just for show." He brushed off his captors' hands and caught up to the middle of the group. _When being captured, always act like a guest to make them uneasy. _He noticed that Lilith was nowhere to be seen. _Good. She can go get help. _He could feel the link between them thinning as more and more distance was placed between them._  
_

Then, it was gone.

There was no way of knowing if she had simply gone more than a mile from him, or had been snatched up by a Roc exactly 5279 feet away. _Ah, I'm sure she'll be fine. _He looked over at the centaur beside him, who was clad in sleek-looking wolf skins. "So, where are you taking me anyway?"

If centaurs had gaze attacks, he'd be dead. "We are taking you to our leader. He will decide your innocence." Aramil was picturing a centaur version of Dumbledore, complete with a really long white beard that he kept tripping on, which was probably inaccurate.

"What happens if I'm found guilty?"

She shrugged. "Then we execute you at once."

Fantastic.

* * *

**And here's another. Sorry about the really long delay, I've been busy, mainly with school stuff. I won't be able to update every other day, but I'll do my best.**

** On a lighter note, I watched _Time Heist _the other day. Absolutely brilliant story! And the next one looks fun too...**

**Well, I'll be off now. Got a birthday to go to. Keep reading, reviewing, and some other third thing that starts with R.**

**Adios!**


	17. Chapter 18

The centaurs either had magical guidance, or a very good memory, despite that -2 penalty to Intelligence. They went across multiple rivers, up hills, and what seemed to be in a complete circle twice before heading back the way they came. Aramil had been blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back, and had his Handy Haversack confiscated. He kept on making Listen checks, but didn't catch much besides the sound of water. Aramil was itching to use a _Killing Shadows _to blast off the blindfold, then use _Step Into Shadow _to travel 600 feet away, but they'd probably polymorph him into a hedgehog with 2,000 arrows before he could take a standard action. No, the best course of action would be to go see the leader. And hopefully, he'd have a private audience where he could turn him into a Fanatic via Diplomacy checks._  
_

_Where the hell is Lilith?_

* * *

Dumbledore and Minerva were sitting in the ruins of the former Transfiguration class, on two of the very few chairs that were still capable of supporting weight in a way that wouldn't bring their user crashing to the ground. While both of them were more then capable of cleaning it up with nothing more then a twitch of their wands (and he was reasonably sure they could both do it wandless, despite Minerva's lack of mastering the fine points in her seventh year), Minerva thought they would need some sort of physical evidence to present to the Ministry.

Dumbledore agreed. He could hardly still believe it himself. _  
_

A bespectacled, pig-tailed girl came rushing into the classroom, coming to a stop just before the shattered glass. Dumbledore recognized her as Tracey Davis, a third-year Slytherin.

Minerva frowned as she moved away the glass with a small sweeping motion. "Miss Davis, shouldn't you be in class right now? There may have been an... _interruption _today, but that is hardly an excuse." He noticed in the back of his mind, that Minerva had used a Wandless spell. _She seems quite good at it, if I say so myself._

"Sorry...Professor..." Tracey leaned against the wall, trying to catch he breath for a few seconds. "Okay, so we were in Care of Magical Creatures and Hagrid was there and Malfoy was there and so was that cute boy with those weird butterfly wings and-"

Dumbledore cut off her with an upraised hand. "You seem to be pressed for time, so I think it would be best to skip ahead."

"Oh, okay." She seemed to be thinking about something. "Hmm...Oh, that's right, Aramil. He told me to tell you that Draco got clawed pretty bad by a Hippogriff and he was bleeding all over the grass, and yeah. Pretty much it."

"What?!" Minerva jumped up, stowing away her wand in a pocket. "Where is he now? Quickly, tell me!" Minervra started to shrink, whiskers sprouting out of her face and patches of fur appearing ll over her.

"Uh..." Tracey seemed a bit shocked to see her Transfiguration teacher turning into a cat. "I um, saw Hagrid bringing him into the Hospital Wing..."

"Then there is no need to hurry Minerva, though we might need to check in on him later. Thank you, Tracey, you are dismissed. Twenty points to Slytherin." Tracey walked out of the room backwards, with her eyes on Minerva the whole time. She bumped off the frame once, but successfully walked off into the hallway. Dumbledore waited until she was a good distance away, then turned to Minerva.

"Why exactly was your first reaction was to turn into a cat?"

Minerva got off the floor, and swept her robes, before sitting down. "Well, excuse me for reacting to a student's injury. And besides, I'm faster as a cat. It's not as if you can Apparate within Hogwarts, right." _Yes, of course you can't. That would be ridiculous and irresponsible for the safety of all the students here._

"What?"

"Hmm?" Dumbledore just realized he was thinking out loud, and now Minerva was giving him a odd look. _Well, that was almost a blunder._ Minerva would berate him if she found out he could Apparate within the boundaries. She'd probably launch into a half-hour long lecture about how he could've smuggled in Sirius Black if he was Transfigured into the shape of some animal, like a flea.

A distraction presented itself in the shape of a raven, which flew through the shattered remains of the windows (Aramil still hadn't explained how the Ilithid had broken all the windows at once, if Minerva remembered it all correctly), landing on a desk that creaked ominously under the weight.

"Wait, isn't that that bird that always seem to be hanging around Aramil all the time?" Dumbledore recalled that she always seemed a bit uneasy around the bird. He wondered if Animagus transformations ever gave witches and wizards certain traits from their animalistic forms. _If so, that would be a fascinating subject to write about. _Dumbledore made a mental note to research it at the earliest opportunity. After he was done his book, of course._  
_

Dumbledore examined the bird, who was looking back at him somewhat intelligently. "I believe so, yes. He does seem to have an odd collection of animals, like that Orion...a Huitzil, I think it was. Haven't seen it around lately, strangely enough. And I think it's a crow, not a raven."

"But what is it doing here? Where's Aramil?"

The crow screeched, flapping its wings at the mention of the Fey.

Dumbledore took out his glasses from a pocket that he had fiddled around with to make it bigger on the inside (he had gotten the idea from a Muggle television show) and put them on. "That's odd, it seems to be trying to communicating with us." The crow-Lilith, he heard Aramil call her once or twice- nodded its head as if it was agreeing with him.

Minerva frowned. "Well that's a glaring flaw. Why make an animal intelligent if it can't talk? I mean, it is an animal, right? Not a Transfigured student, or, I don't know, Sirius Black?"

Lilith looked at her with her head cocked, as if she was saying: _Do I look like a murderer to you?_

"Well you're the expert here on Transfiguration. Got one hundred percent on every test I had, didn't you? But yes, it does appear to be a regular sentient raven, with my old ordinary eyes in these glasses." _Yup, completely ordinary. _Dumbledore's glasses had some of the most powerful spells he had ever encountered casted onto it. As far as he could tell, it could detect even a hint of magic, which appeared around the magical object in question as a faint bluish-green aura. It also revealed all falsehoods, showed invisible objects, and could see through almost any disguise, magical or mundane, not to mention the fact that they spontaneously disposed of loose eyelashes, that was a boon. Which made the fact that he had received them in a Muggle bookstore all the more puzzling.

"Dumbledore?"

He blinked back into reality with a jolt. _Quick, find something to say._ "Ah, sorry Minerva. Just thinking about the time I encountered a talking dog." Minerva rolled her eyes and sighed."It talked about food, mostly. And chasing birds."

"Yes, I'm sure its fascinating," Minerva began, "But it_"

Dumbledore held up a hand, which caused her to fall silent. "It could talk, by the means of a spell I devised. However, as it had the intelligence of an animal, it could talk in only very basic terms."

He could see the spark of realization in the witch's eyes. "And since the raven is intelligent, but lacks the ability to speak..."

"...Then the spell would work perfectly for Lilith." He finished it for her, smiling. "I'll do the honors." He got up from his seat and faced Lilith, who was shifting from one leg to another. "I hope I do this right this time around, vaporizing the room might put a damper on things."

"Wait, what?!"

He pulled out his wand and flourished it in a large circle. "Sorry, too late to stop it. _Dictum Bestia!" _

* * *

Pazuzu surveyed the mortal city below with a look of distaste on his face. It was noisy, with hundreds of those self-powered carriages constantly emitting noise, and all the chatter of the city wafting up from below. And the lights. Oh Ao, the lights. They were constantly blinking on and off, like some city-wide version of _Colour Spray. _What he wouldn't give to go back to the lantern-lit darkness of the Material Plane. But, he had a job to do, one that would catapult his ascension to godhood from centuries to years.

There was the sound of a door opening and closing behind him, and then tentative nervous footsteps on the strange martial that covered the floor of this room. He knew who it was without turning around. Pazuzu inhaled deeply, smelling the delicious scent of mortal fear and greed.

"So I take it you've accepted our little arrangement?" He turned from the glass wall to examine his latest project. Since that mage had found his name and summoned him in the first place, he had been laying low, learning all that he could about this strange world of machines and smoke. He'd been back to Pazunia only once, to appoint Shalih, a Succubus child of his, to rule the layer in his stead. He was frequently gone from the layer, so with luck his subjects would chalk it up to a sudden increase in Venerable Dragonwrought kobold paladins of Io. After resting up for a day to regain his _Plane Shift_ spell-like ability, he had departed from the Abyss and back to the world. He was patient, searching through the dregs of society to find someone who was willing to do anything. And he had.

The overweight Mr James Reed who was sweating quite visibly wiped his brow with a handkerchief. "Ah, y-yes..w-what exactly will y-you do?"

Pazuzu bit back the urge to summon a Balor to redecorate the room with his entrails. This mortal was starting to annoy him.

"It's quite simple, Mr Reed." Pazuzu sat down in the chair behind Reed's desk, gesturing with a hand for him to sit in the other chair. "Your business is going, what's the word, _bankrupt. _Normally this wouldn't be a problem, as you would just retire and leave everyone stranded on a sinking ship." Reed shifted uncomfortably in the wooden seat, which seemed like it'd break under his weight.

"But you have a contract, that states barring ill health or death, you will work for them for a minimum of thirty years, of which you have served twenty seven. But, I can fix all that. I can dissolve the contract and let you go in peace with a big fat severance pay of say, a few hundred million, or your company can find an accounting error that allows them to float on for a few more years, those are the only options." Pazuzu leaned back, like he didn't have a care in the world. "The choice is yours."

Pazuzu could see the greed shining in his eyes, wiping out all fear he had of Pazuzu's demonic features. He didn't appreciate greed to the same extent that Mammon did, but there was nothing he liked more then watching mortals fall due to greed. Except killing Dragonwrought kobolds who thought that he'd grant their wishes. That was always fun. "The money, I'll take the money."

He did his best to look surprised, which was easy considering he had a Bluff modifier of 41. "Really? You're just taking the money?"

"Of course I'm taking the goddamn money! Those bastards could rot in hell for all I care!" Reed's little outburst seemed to go unnoticed by his secretary, who was just a few steps away from the door. He'd hate to have to burn the building down. Oh what was he saying, he'd gladly destroy half the city if he didn't plan to milk it dry first.

"Unlikely. They seem more of a Lawful Neutral sort. And hell's not that bad, if you make a deal to start out as something other then a lemure. But I'm getting off track here." He got up from the seat, stretching his wings. The chairs in this world were really uncomfortable on the wings. He wondered how Aramil was doing with that invisible farspawn. Maybe he should stop by sometime. "You'll have your severance pay by the end of the week." He picked up his sword from where he had placed it, swinging it through the air to make him flinch. "If you ever need me again, call my name thrice and I'll appear."

"Wait, hold on there!" Red got up from his chair, his eyes suspicious. "If there's one thing I've learned in the company, it's that everything has a price tag. What are you getting out of this?"

Pazuzu smiled maliciously. "Why only your soul, Mr Reed." He vanished in a cloud of black smoke, leaving nothing behind to indicate his presence except for a single feather, on which three words glowed.

_Pazuzu, Pazuzu, Pazuzu._

* * *

**First of all, I'd like to apologize for the long wait. School stuff. I think I'll be able to update more frequently, now that I've got steady access to a computer. So, until next time.**


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